


Tell Me That I'm Real

by Beastrage



Series: tell me verse [1]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: A Rather Large Amount of Moogles, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Blood and Injury, Body Dysphoria, Body Horror, Body Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Chronic Illness, Consumption of Weird Shit, Dehumanization, Dehumanizing Language, Different Redemption Arcs for Different People, E for Enemies being Burned Alive, Everyone in this franchise has self-sacrificing problems, Game: Kingdom Hearts Chain of Memories, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kingdom Hearts III Spoilers, Many thinky thinks, Medical Procedures, Mentioned nudity, Misgendering, Monster Biology, Moogle Culture, Murder, Nonbinary Character, OC as Riku Replica, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Abuse, Redemption, Self-Insert, Serious Injuries, Time Travel, Torture, Trans Character, Trauma, Unreliable Narrator, Video Game Mechanics, Worldbuilding, casual discussion of murder, happening in non-canon ways, oc-insert, the fantasy kind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 55
Words: 278,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21626803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beastrage/pseuds/Beastrage
Summary: Look, you're not supposed to wake up as character of a video game. Let alone the character of your favorite video game series. Yet somehow, that's exactly what's happened to me.And not just any video game character either.No, I have to be the clone one.The one and only Riku Replica.
Relationships: Naminé (Kingdom Hearts) & Original Character(s), Original Character & Riku Replica, Original Character & Xion
Series: tell me verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1766746
Comments: 1124
Kudos: 577





	1. Replacement

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I Woke Up As A Nobody](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18791935) by [Fictaflare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictaflare/pseuds/Fictaflare). 



> This work comes out of a desire to see more self-insert or oc-inserts in the Kingdom Hearts fandom, even if it means writing one myself! This work is also an experiment in writing in a different POV than usual.  
> You may note a 'trans character' tag at the top. That tag is the result of having the OC being a Cisgender woman waking up in a male body. That transition will not be the focus of this story, but will be mentioned throughout the story. The subject will be treated respectfully, but if you're not really a fan of trans characters, well, don't read this then.  
> I hope you enjoy!

_ “I've been looking for somebody to  _ **_tell me that I’m real._ ** _ ” -OneRepublic, Wanted _

I’m not supposed to be here.

That’s the honest truth, right there. Well, as honest as I can make it. Hard to be honest when you don’t even know who you are. Your name. Your face. 

When you wake up as someone who was never supposed to be you. 

I don’t know how it happened in the first place. And despite all that I  _ do  _ know, I don’t know how it will end.

For, you see, I’ve changed.  _ Everything.  _

Well, maybe not. But enough that I can’t guess how’ll it go. So...

Want to find out with me?

* * *

  
  


The first thing I become aware of is a loud sucking noise in my ears. Someone trying to unclog the toilet again, in the bathroom next door?

Please, don’t let the toilet of hell be all stuffed up again. I’ve suffered enough. I don’t want to be the one to unclog it.

But...I’m probably going to have to do it. Ugh. My bed’s so warm and wet, I don’t want to g-warm and  _ wet _ ? Huh?

I wake with a breath stuck in my throat. I choke it out, until my entire body’s shaking under the force of it. 

Something’s...off. Different. Give me a little time, world, I’ll figure it out. Eventually. 

The world doesn’t give me a little time. I’m pressed up against something hard, like I’ve fallen asleep against a car window. But not for long. 

The pressure vanishes, leaving me to stagger from its sudden lack. My feet trip over a lip of some sort in the middle of that staggering. 

Nearly fall over, for real, that time. Only to be saved by someone grabbing at my upper arm and gripping it tightly. Forcing me onto my feet.

“Awfully clumsy, isn’t it?”

“The sensors must still be calibrating,  _ Number Six. _ ”

Dark in here. I blink. Still dark in here. Are my eyes not working?

Slick. I’m all slimey. Gooey. I wiggle a little bit and the hand holding onto to me digs in tighter. 

Finding my feet is difficult, slick as they are. Eventually I manage it. Two feet, firm against the floor. The hand lets go, once I do. 

I feel...different. 

Stretch out a hand. Wiggle the fingers on the end of it. They move, just like I tell them to. 

My hand. 

My hand that doesn’t look like my hand. Smaller. Fingers much too short. None of my familiar chipped nail polish visible. Tanner, than what I’m used to. 

Wait, what?

I rub my other fingers against the palm. Rough. Callused. Pinch at the webbing. 

My hands...they’re bony. Narrow. Delicate-looking. Piano fingers, I’ve heard people call them. Which I certainly use them for. 

Not...these wrists. They’re thicker. Wider. Bigger, but...not. At the same time. 

These are not my hands. They move, like they are my hands. But they are not my hands. 

“Do you understand me?”

I stare down at my hand. Wiggle those same fingers. Again. Yep. Still the same. Nothing changed. Besides the obvious. 

I tilt my head. Hair brushes into my eyes, as I do so. Too light to be what normally grows out of my scalp. One of the hands lifts, pinching fingers around a chunk of hair. 

Pulling it into my area of vision. 

Grey. A silvery kind of grey. Not old people grey but...grey. 

Huh. How?

“Zexion, run another check. There’s no response.”

What the hell was going on?

I’m...cold. The wetness of my odd body may be drying, but it leaves me cold in exchange. My shoulders itch. Familiar feelings, familiar where the rest is not. I run my tongue between my teeth. 

Awake. Alive. 

Numb. Nothing feels quite right, even with the familiar coldness and itchiness. 

Long fingers pinch at me. Cold as ice. Leaves me even colder than before, each prodding poke. Gloved and rough against my skin. My skin breaks out in goosebumps, under each new touch.

“The scans say it’s functional.”

“Yet it’s not responding. Run another check!”

Not right, to be touched like this. Why am I not doing anything about it? I sway on my feet. Lift my eyes, to see exactly who’s poking me like this. 

Long blond hair. A narrow face, very pale. Green eyes. A man, I think. 

He’s wearing black. Aren’t doctors supposed to wear white? You can’t see blood or other fluids on black. 

That clothing he’s wearing...twigs to something in my memory. Don’t I know what that is? Haven’t I seen it somewhere before?

Seeing how I’m looking him in the eyes, the man asks me a question. “Do you understand me?”

Sounds familiar, like how the clothes are familiar. 

I manage a weak nod. The man seems satisfied by that, fingers pausing briefly in their examination. 

Just long enough to give me his name.

“I am Vexen. Number Four of Organization XIII.”

Vexing? No,  _ Vexen.  _ Like seven, but not. 

Wait. I know that name. That name, which belongs to someone very fictional, paired with that “Organization” stuff...

Oh. 

_ Oh.  _

_ Oh no.  _

“This isn’t real,” I blurt out. “You’re not real.”

My voice...there’s something wrong with my voice. Too deep, not me. Am I sick, what’s wrong with me?

Those green eyes narrow at me. Bright, like the color of radioactive goo from cartoons. Glowing, like that same goo. “Hardly. If  _ anyone  _ is not real here, it would be you.”

A gloved hand cups itself around my jaw. Pulling my face closer to the glowing eyes, until I’m swaying on my feet once more. Off balance and shaking. The strange chains hanging from his coat jangle loudly in my ears.

Very, very real. 

For something that shouldn’t be. 

Those long fingers (feel like the claws, the way they dig into me) pull my chin up. Bend my head back and forth, twist my neck until I feel like he’s going to pop my head right off my shoulders. 

Something else  _ does  _ pop in response. 

My shoulders. It  _ hurts _ when they pop, instead the strange stretching feeling I usually get from popping my shoulders. 

I squeal. “Eeeeeeeee-”

Nearly end up swallowing my tongue as Vexen’s hand jams my mouth shut. “Silence,” he orders. 

I obey, more out of shock than anything else. Stand there silently as this mad scientist, who  _ should not be real _ , examines me. For...something. I don’t know what he’s looking for. I don’t know why  _ me.  _

The chill, the air moving in the room...leaves me very acutely aware of my nakedness. It helps that no one in my vicinity really appears to give a crap about that same nudity. Helps, not stops. A warm flush creeps into my cheeks, spreading throughout the rest of my body. Awkward shame builds in my gut. 

I duck my head, turning to bury my face in my shoulder. Move my hands to cover....wait. That’s new. Surprising.

Well, crap. I don’t like that. 

To be honest, I don’t like any of this. But having a dick now? That’s just the icing on the shitcake. A whole truckload of shitcakes. 

Rather than deal with that unpleasant revelation right now, I allow my attention to be drawn by the Nobody currently looking me over. Cold, cold hands. Just as cold as the ice he used. 

Vexen’s so... _ tall.  _ I mean, I knew he was tall, tall in a group of extremely tall villains. All created for the sole purpose of looming over short child protagonists. 

But I didn’t think he was  _ this  _ tall. I mean, I’m not exactly short. Well,  _ wasn’t  _ short. Perfectly average for someone my age, my sex. I’m pretty sure he should not be towering over me like he does. Yet there he is.

Stupidly tall. 

Dumb thing to bug me, I know. Woken up in fantasy land and I’m bugged by being short. It’s either that small annoyance or start panicking. 

I side-glance Vexen as much as I can when I’m facing him head-on. Peek at him through my messy grey hair. Somehow...think this guy would not react well  _ at all  _ if his...whatever started freaking out in front of him. 

Call it a gut feeling. Or a supposition confirmed by my currently aching jaw. 

I pinch the inside of my cheek between my teeth. Should I say something? Do anything?

Before I decide, Vexen speaks up once more. Louder than a mutter. 

“Finally.”

Finally? I don’t like the sound of that. I listen, to his next words. Hoping for an explanation. Thankfully, I get one. 

“The pinnacle of my research. A new and improved Riku,” Vexen announces proudly. 

Huh. That explains a lot, actually. The silver hair, the hands, my lack of height...

Also.

Frick.

* * *

I was not expecting to wake up as Riku Replica. But then, who does?

The greater surprise is that I  _ keep being _ Riku Replica. The body moves when I want to move it, like it’s mine. Really weird. Really strips away any sense of deniability I might have about the situation. 

Probably a good thing. Considering what lies in my “future.” If everything goes according to canon, at least. 

Which...I’m not thinking about. 

My attention turns to my surroundings. To the lab Vexen’s abandoned me in the middle of, while he goes off to do...science things. 

The labs are...lab-like. Tiled floors, white like the rest of Castle Oblivion. Blank white walls, as far as I can tell. Honestly, I don’t know what I expected. Thinking about what the labs in Castle Oblivion’s basement looked like had never been on my top ten list of things to ponder about Kingdom Hearts. 

It’s...dark in here. The only lights come from various computer monitors littering the place, and weird glowing pink fluid in the tubes. 

Like the tube I had come from. The same pink fluid I had been covered in. 

Very much against basic lab-procedure, keeping it so dark. Like wearing black instead of lab coats. And Vexen calls himself a scientist. Hm. I snort quietly at that. Yeah.  _ Real  _ scientific this is, all mad-science style. Probably got an inator or two locked away in here somewhere...

Bite my lip, fight back the giggles. This is  _ awful.  _ I should not be laughing. I’m a Replica, at the mercy of my creator and his own masters. There is very little to be laughing about. 

But the thought of Vexen pulling a Dr. Doofenschmirtz is too funny  _ not  _ to laugh. Silently, whole body shake style. 

_ “I will take over the entire tri-state area!”  _ In Vexen’s voice. 

Heheh. 

Maybe...I should focus on something else. Before I start  _ actually  _ laughing and Zexion kills me or something for that. 

Like...my clothes. My stupid, dumbo clothes. 

My fingers tug at my shirt bands (straps?), for lack of a better term for the strangeness of the outfit I now wear. 

The clothes they’ve given me are copies of Riku’s KH1 outfit, meant for the tropics. I shiver constantly. Always have had too thin of a skin. These clothes don’t help with the cold  _ at all.  _ Awful. Constantly freezing, all of the time.

Temperature’s probably Vexen’s fault. Yeah, it definitely is. Has to be. Butthead ice man. 

There have been only two people around. I think. Two that I’ve seen. One is, of course, Vexen. In all of his pissy glory. No way he would put aside his life’s work, never. 

The other is Zexion. 

I didn’t expect him to be here, but in retrospect, it only makes sense. How would Ienzo in Kingdom Hearts 3 have known where to start fiddling with replicas, if his Nobody hadn’t been at least  _ somewhat  _ involved with the project in the first place?

Not enough to create a whole new one on his own, he had still needed Vexen for that. But enough to prep a body for Roxas to take later on.

All future stuff.

Nothing relevant, or helpful, to me now. Only distracting. 

Zexion’s here, on a computer nearby. Too busy to mind me.

Vexen is...somewhere else in the dark dark lab. Away from me. Thankfully, he’s been too distracted by completing other lab stuff to mess with me much. His glow-in-the-dark eyes are creepy. And the way he breathes, each and every breath visible like it’s below freezing all the time for him...agh. 

I shiver. Again. Too cold around here. 

It’s a lot easier to understand how Xemnas convinced the Organization that they had no hearts and nowhere to go, when you’ve spent some time in that Organization’s presence. 

Seen what they  _ really  _ look like. Feel like. 

Even as I watch, Zexion casually brushes his hair back. Just barely enough to reveal a skin covered eye socket hiding underneath the hair curtain. That shimmered and gleamed like the blue-lines that ran down the sides of Dusks. Watching it...the skin wiggles like he’s blinking. And not, at the same time. Eldritch. 

I swallow the bile rising in my throat, lowering my head before he catches me. Letting my grey bangs brush into my eyes. 

Yeah. That extra detail couldn’t quite make it into pixels. Not without giving some poor kids nightmares. 

Human-shaped, but not human. Not fully. 

...I’m really here, aren’t I? In the middle of a video game that, underneath all of the Disney cheer and brightness, lurked implications of horrific degrees. 

Sure, you could say that no one  _ really  _ died, for long. But was getting trapped in a come ten years any better? How ‘bout hell? Maybe even get yourself possessed, if you’re lucky. What was a case of amnesia, or two?

Outside these walls, lay hundreds of worlds. And between each world resided countless Heartless. Monsters that could only be slayed by an extremely rare weapon that came to the ‘strong of heart.’ Anyone else? Doomed.

When you thought about it, Kingdom Hearts was one scary universe. And you didn’t even have to think very hard about it!

I shiver. This time not from the cold. Best not to think too much, then. Always my weakness, that. 

...How long til I fight Riku? That’s the first fight Repliku faced in Chain of Memories, I’m pretty sure. 

My teeth clench at the thought. Digging into my tongue. 

Shouldn’t be too much longer. If I’m “Riku” already, the fight will be happening as soon as I’m told where the “real deal” is. 

My teeth bite down on my tongue again. Keeping all the words I want to say inside. Forcing my silence. 

I look down at my hands. My gloved hands. I...appreciate the aesthetic of them, but the way they leave the lower half of my palms bare is kinda weird. And the rest of the outfit is totally lame. Uncomfortable. Not my style. 

Just like this body. 

Why am I here? Why me?

Questions whose answers I’m pretty sure I won’t be getting any time soon. 

Focus on breathing. Focus on keeping it together. Once you’ve examined your surroundings a dozen times, there’s really not much to do. Especially if you can’t touch anything. 

But...what’s Zexion working on? His computer screen is awfully bright, throwing his strange features even more into focus. Shimmering and shifting, tiny worms wiggling at the edges of his face. 

Careful, careful. The sneaker-like shoes I’m wearing thankfully don’t make very much noise, as I carefully pick my steps to stand somewhere behind Zexion. A couple feet behind, far enough that he won’t end up running into me should he turn around suddenly. 

The screen glows enough for my eyes to catch images. Images and text. Numbers. Reminds me of those images from DiZ’s computer in Kingdom Hearts 2. Hollywood style computer skills. 

I squint, leaning just a little forward. Taking in as much as I can from my position. 

I know science...a little. But what’s on that screen is a complete foreign language to me, beyond my understanding. 

“What’s that?” I ask. Before I realize, oh frick, no, I shouldn’t be saying anything. 

Zexion’s back is perfectly still. Too still. Almost like he’s not breathing. He turns his head, just enough for me to see his non-covered  _ normal  _ eye. “Ah. I see you’ve finally decided to stop creeping around.”

I’ve  _ got  _ to get better at sneaking.

“So? What it is? What’cha working on?”

“Curious.”

Hm? I make a humming noise of inquiry. Unfortunately, Zexion does not take the hint, instead musing in a different direction entirely. Or the same subject, with none of the answers I want. 

“You are an interesting tool,” Zexion states simply. “Perhaps...” 

Huh? Perhaps what? C’mon, don’t leave me hanging!

“What?”

“You should stop asking so many questions.” Simple. Flat. As casual as if he’s telling me what the weather was going to be outside.  _ Oh, it’s going to be sunny today, oh you should stop asking so many questions.  _

My eyebrows come together, my forehead furrowing. I narrow my eyes at the Nobody. At his back, he’s not looking at me anymore. Returned to pecking out letters on the keyboard, completely ignoring me. 

Nothing more than a small annoyance, to be ignored. 

Ugh.

My fingers tap against my other arm, arms crossed across my chest. My oddly flat chest. I consider asking another question, before deciding not to. I don’t know what he’ll do if I ignore his “warning.”

Something bad, probably. There’s a lot of types of punishment available, if you don’t have morals that say something about limits. 

So I need to start doing something else, before I accidentally end up killing myself by tempting Zexion to annoyance out of pure boredom. 

The surrounding darkness...it’s been dark enough to keep me hesitant about moving around too much in the lab. Which is really the  _ real  _ reason I haven’t been wandering around before this. 

What if I run into something? Knock an experiment over? Then Vexen would  _ really  _ kill me then. Or Zexion would off me, for interrupting his work even further. 

But what else can I do? I’ve already looked around the best I can from one spot. And I got to a spot to stand behind Zexion without too much trouble...

Just be careful, that’s all. Yeah. 

Hopefully wires won’t reach out to trip me, or corners won’t be inconveniently placed at elbow level...my only weaknesses. 

Decision made to move, well, there’s only one thing that  _ really  _ interests me in this lab. Bright and glowing and crazy. 

My feet straight away carry me to the brightest thing in the room, aside from Zexion’s computer screen. 

The tubes. The very clearly mad-science tubes. The kind of glass containers that were clearly created to hold entire human bodies inside.  _ Replica  _ tubes. Obviously. 

Those tubes...I came from one of those. Carefully emptied out of everything but me, right before they opened it up to take me out. 

That pink goo must be like the fluid and water in the womb, for babies that have yet to be gone. Full of nutrients for a growing replica.

Womb Juice.

I peer curiously into the nearest one. Are there more replicas, growing there, hidden in swirling pinkness? Tiny, too tiny to be of any use, right now?

Babies. Babies that would deserve better than this, to be taken care of, rather than used as common tools. 

My hand spreads out against glass. Surprisingly warm to touch, not chilled like I was expecting. Wet, just a bit. There’s the thumping of the goo being pushed in and out by the pipes connected to it, the machine always hard at work to keep everything going. 

Feels like a heartbeat. 

Had this...body been aware, in this tube, before I woke up in it? They say that babies can hear and respond to music before birth. Could replicas be the same?

“I’m sorry,” I whisper to...I don’t know who. 

No. That’s a lie. I know  _ exactly  _ who this apology goes to, belongs to. The person who was supposed to have this body, the person I’m replacing. Sorry, Riku Replica. The replica that never even got a name. 

My head lowers, enough to hit against the heated glass with a  _ thudwunk.  _ My forehead presses against that warm, warm glass. Rests there, above my hand. My eyes meet the reflection in the glass. That of a boy, with green-blue eyes and silver hair. Not my  _ real  _ reflection, but reflecting the shell I’m now in. 

If  _ I’m  _ Riku Replica now, and the Riku Replica from canon doesn’t get a chance to ever exist...well, it’s the least I can do, to carry out what he tried so hard to do. Isn’t it?

“I’ll do my best. For you,” I whisper to the reflection. My fingers curl up against the tube, leaving a mark in the perspiration. A handprint. 

I don’t really have any  _ other  _ goal right now, other than possibly figuring out how to do a runner on the Organization. 

My best chance, probably, will be after Sora kills all of the members currently here. Whoa. That’s depressing. But as mentioned, probably my best chance. 

_ I don’t want to die.  _

So, yeah. I’ll do my best, Riku Replica, and not get myself killed like you did at the end of Chain of Memories. 

Do we have a deal?

_ Yes.... _

A hissing sound. My reflection narrows its eyes. Wait. Did I just hear something? Something other than Zexion typing away?

My cheeks smush against the warm tube. Ruins my reflection, as my ears perk up. Trying to catch any sound, past the already mentioned typing and the heartbeat-ish beat of the pipes. 

“What exactly are you doing?”

I freeze. Which is a funny word choice, considering who’s standing behind me. I turn to see neon eyes and hair that glows just as bright in the dark. Tall man.  _ Stupidly  _ tall. 

Vexen, glaring at me. 

Man, that realization never stops being weird.  _ He’s  _ real,  _ Kingdom Hearts _ is real. 

I’m real.

(Aren’t I?)

“Come here.”

I take a breath and move towards him. Slowly. Carefully. 

(I’m not doing anything wrong...)

Step right up to him and the man looks me up and down. Examines me, like a petri dish. 

Which, to him, I am. I suppose. 

He hums, putting his hand on his chin. Contemplating.

“You appear to be whole enough, if you’re wandering the lab. Perfect for a test drive.”

A test drive, huh? Like fighting things? Probably. I don’t  _ really  _ want to fight things, but as a replica, it seems that’s what I’m made for. 

Fighting things. Or really, fighting  _ people _ . 

“Follow.” Vexen’s already turned his back on me. Expecting to be obeyed. 

I go. What else can I do? I’m at everyone’s mercy, right now. Like this. 

He pauses, shooting the shortest of looks at me. 

“Put on your Dark Suit,” he orders. 

My...Dark Suit? Oh, right,  _ that.  _ The stupid outfit that Riku wore in the first game, for his boss battle. I chew at the inside of my cheek. My fingers scratch at my arms. If I ask...what will he do to me? Zexion didn’t take my questions very well, and I have no reason to believe that Vexen will be any better...but I have to, since I don’t know how.

“How?”

Vexen turns around to stare at me, with all of his attention. An explosive sigh shakes his entire body, shooting out into the air as visible as smoke. Or water vapor, when it’s super cold outside, like it is now in the labs. 

“It seems not all of the programming has integrated,” he mutters to himself. Shakes his head, blond hair going all over the place. 

“Merely focus on it. Picture yourself wearing it. You  _ do  _ know what your Dark Suit looks like, do you not?”

I nod. Close my eyes. Focus, huh? I can do that...probably. Not like my entire life depends on not screwing up right now. 

Picture every bit of the outfit I can remember, of Riku challenging Sora in it, armed with his Dark weapon. I fought that fight ( _ lost  _ it) so many times, I  _ should  _ have no trouble recalling the appearance of Riku.

And I don’t. Riku’s a clearer picture than what  _ I  _ used to look like, for some reason. 

I focus, and open my eyes just in time to catch shadows wrapping themselves around. Darkness. Colder than everywhere else in this cold place, ice against my skin. 

....why. Why. I hate this. So much. The Dark Suit is awfully itchy and scratchy, the dark blue and black I remember. And I have a  _ skirt,  _ tangled right at the knee. And weird belts! Nomura, why. I fight the urge to peel the Dark Suit off my skin (ugh, itchy), choosing instead to look up at Vexen. 

Tall Vexen. I stretch out my gloved hands by my waist. See? I’ve done what you said and everything!

Vexen gives a curt nod. Satisfied. “Good.”

He waves a hand and from the pale tiles rises a pillar of Darkness. A gateway, a hole, a Dark Corridor. 

The Dark Corridor...is the blackest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Burns my eyeballs, sucking all visible light into it. 

A blackhole, in miniature. A man-made blackhole. Sucking away at the floor. 

Whoa. 

Vexen goes right into it. Expecting me to follow, probably. 

Not that I really want to, but...something itches in my gut. What is outside of here? What lies ahead, in Castle Oblivion? 

_ I want to know.  _

Alright. Into the unknown it is. I breathe out and step forward into the shimmery dark hole waiting for me. 

Into the Dark. 


	2. Reshuffle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our Hero learns to D-D-Duel and picks a fight with a teenage boy. Also, there is a serious case of the munchies.

Going through a Dark Corridor is a harrowing experience. The Darkness squeezes around my lungs, keeping me from breathing. From taking in air to replace the breath I let out before entering. Can’t see very much at all in the uh,  _ Dark  _ space, only enough to focus on the long blond hair right in front of me. 

But before it goes too long, before I start  _ really  _ panicking, my feet stumble out of the Darkness right after Vexen.

The pressure goes away and several desperate breathes fill my lungs. In and out. In and out. Choking, almost, on the amount of air I suck in like a wild vacuum cleaner. 

Cough, cough. Hacking away. 

“Do not breath  _ in  _ the Corridors,” Vexen chides, raising his eyebrows at me. I could almost hear the attached silent  _ you fool _ to the end of that. 

I nod, focusing on fixing that lack of air problem. Place my hands on my thighs and breath. Scratch at the tight material, for an itch I can’t quite manage to reach. Breathing until the pressure is gone all the way and everything feels normal again. 

Well, as normal as it can get when this is  _ not my body.  _

I straighten up and look around.

Blink. Blink. Wait. I’m not  _ wearing my glasses.  _ Not wearing my glasses and I can  _ see _ .

Well, I guess this new body has to be good for  _ something _ . 

Everything about this strange place is the exact opposite of the pure whiteness of the room I’ve just left. 

Colors of the rainbow splattered everywhere on the far-too squishy walls, floors, and ceiling. Neon and pulsing, alien. A living maze. Stinks of rotting fish and other  _ things.  _

Monstrous. Mon _ stro.  _ Hah. 

What  _ is  _ Monstro in Kingdom Hearts, anyway? The whale seems to exist just fine in Space Between Worlds, outside of any normal sea. Does that mean it’s...a space whale?

Ooooh.  _ Space whale.  _ But is that the case? And how does  _ that  _ work?

The biggest problem with this entire “waking up as Riku Replica” thing, I decide right then and there, is that I am full of questions and whimsy about the world I find myself in and am also surrounded by people who won’t answer my questions.

Not on the pain of death. 

No, instead I get to suffer in silence, my curiosity boiling away inside me. Always about to boil over and get me burned. 

Enough of that. Can’t have my mind wandering off too much, focus. Keep calm. 

Keep calm and follow Vexen. The man leads me to the edge of a pile of boxes, still pretty close to the entrance of this stinky place. 

“Take these.”

He hands me a...stack of weirdly shaped cards. Pointy on the top and straight along the other three edges. Blue on the back with a white heart pattern and when I turn them over...red outline with Riku’s Dark Blade thing pictured there.

What was it called? Not Way to Dawn, that was the Keyblade...Dark Blade, nope. Uh, Soul Eater? Yeah, Soul Eater.

Soul Eater, a weapon, pictured on a bunch of cards. With a number on lower right-hand corner. Each “card” in this deck looks exactly the same, the only difference being in numbers and four varying backgrounds of red, green, blue, and yellow. 

Wait. I  _ know  _ this. Oh.  _ Oh.  _

Oh right. That’s why I never really got into Chain of Memories. The  _ cards.  _ Always been awful at doing multiple things at once. Moving a character and shuffling through a deck of cards while keeping an eye on the opponent's hand to properly counter it...a bit much for me. 

But I guess I’ll have to learn how now. Or die. 

_ I don’t want to die.  _

I shuffle through the cards, carefully seeing what’s available. A couple of Zeros, which are good...I think. Not a whole ton of high numbers, mostly stuff in the middle like Fives and Fours. Maybe some Sixes stuck in there, too. 

“Those cards are for attacks within the illusionary worlds of Castle Oblivion,” Vexen starts his lecture, once he’s noticed I’m looking through what he’s given me. “Each number determines the strength of the attack in question. Combining the cards in sets of threes can become what is called a sleight if-”

Yeah, okay. Attacking with cards is one thing, in a video game. But in real life? How does that even  _ work? _

“How?” 

Neon eyes just  _ stare  _ at me, under a rapidly furrowing brow. Above an unpleasant scowl. He shakes his head at me. “And of course, my genius goes unappreciated.”

Wait, did I do something wrong? 

Oh, right. He was lecturing. And I interrupted. Oops. 

Vexen huffs, throwing his hands up in the air. “Well, if you’re so eager to get  _ started _ ...”

“Go on.” He flaps a hand at me. Shooing me away. Towards whatever hides out in this weird, colorful stomach. 

Vexen can’t be serious. 

“You can’t be serious.”

“Go,” he repeats. “Unless you would like to fight me.”

Boss Battle Vexen for my first? No way!

I shake my head violently at that. “No, I’ll...go find a Heartless.”

“In Castle Oblivion, there are no actual Heartless here, only memories of them,” he calls after me, as I troop off into the “world.” Searching out a nice Shadow, or two, for a decent practice bout. Something that isn’t too likely to kill me right off the bat. 

I wave a hand in acknowledge, keeping my eyes on the ground to avoid any strange puddles. Or lumps. Or anything too weird. Which is hard, in a monster whale’s stomach. Everything looks extremely odd, if a bit fuzzy at the edges. And by fuzzy at the edges I mean whenever I focus too much on something farther than right in front of me, looking ahead, it doesn’t...focus right. It stays fuzzy. Gets less fuzzy if I get closer, but only when I’m  _ really  _ close. 

Like the various blocks and blobs here aren’t quite  _ real.  _

Which they aren’t, of course. I already knew that. But having that extra knowledge in my head isn’t quite the same as seeing a rainbow Monstro block paint itself into existence right before my eyes. 

I blink away the burning after-image.My fingers rum at my neck, right where the Dark Suit covers. Rough material. Ridged. Lower my eyes to better search out a Shadow or some other tiny Heartless. Something weak enough to serve as a decent tutorial. 

I find what I’m looking for soon enough, once I actually start focusing on finding it. 

Oh, look, a Shadow! It’s black and yellow-eyed, looking just like they do in the games. 

Fuzzy at the edges, as it slips in and out of the ground like someone’s moving around a projector light. Changing size and shape without actually changing anything at all.

Huh. How funny.

I watch it a little longer, the Shadow crawling around. Searching for something, with its grabby hands scratching at the whale-floor. And whale-wall! Now that’s something different from the games, a little Shadow crawling up the wall like it crawled on the ground, in its 2D shadow form.

Its antenna quiver. Seeking for a target. Only to find nothing, since I’ve carefully placed myself behind some barrels out of sight. Holding my breath. Waiting to see what it’ll do next. Which is sinking back into the ground to disappear entirely. 

Huh. Suppose I should walk over there, bring it out again. Actually fight it, like Vexen said to. 

My fingers go down, to tug at my belt. To pull out the deck tucked away there. Flick through the cards again. They look exactly the same as when I first looked at them. Full of Copy Soul Eaters. Numbers, numbers, numbers...

I sigh, putting the deck back away. 

Come  _ on _ , me. I know what I’m doing, at this point.

“Stalling,” I mutter to myself. “C’mon, let’s just get this over with.”

Take a deep breath. Let it out. Step forward. Closer. Closer. 

Instantly, once I hit just the right spot, the Shadow (is it the same Shadow from before? Who knows?) pops out to make a beeline for me. 

Too close!

“Agh!” I shriek, hopping out of the way. Whoa, that thing’s  _ fast _ ! Comes in for another attack, jumping straight for my face. A standing jump at that, surprisingly high for a creature that’s barely above my ankles in height. 

I kick at it. An obvious mistake, so obvious that I do it anyway and the world starts flashing around me. Like walls are coming up to box me in, like I’m falling off of a super high cliff. 

My brain, that for very last second, for the briefest of moments, chooses to use that time wondering,  _ so this must be Wild Pokemon battles are like in the games... _

Sometimes I amaze even myself about what I pick to think about. 

Great, isn’t it?

* * *

  
  


When everything around me focuses again, no longer a rainbow blur, it’s...well, it’s still a rainbow. But Monstro room rainbow, a scattering of Shadows shooting in and out of the floor like demented jack-in-the-boxes. Eyes are blank, hard to tell if they’re looking at me. If not for the fact that their heads are all directed towards me. Towards my chest. 

(My heart.)

I take an experimental sniff. Huh. No fish smell. No, it’s more like the sterile lab, the rest of clean, white Castle Oblivion. More evidence that this isn’t fully “real,” though it’s pretty good at pretending. 

I don’t take the deck out. It doesn’t really come out in some noticeable magical fashion either. The cards are simply...there. Floating around me in a circle.  _ Flipping  _ around me, shuffling. 

A lure, to get me to pick one. And I have to pick one, don’t I?

I reach out and tap on the card right in front of me. A Five. It glows and disappears. Looking down, I see that my weapon is glowing now too, with the same blue that the card had. Gone into my Soul Eater, maybe?

That’s...kinda cool. 

What happens if I  _ think  _ about the cards, and  _ don’t  _ touch them? Will something happen then? Since the cards shift and sway, moving closer if I move my eyes to focus on particular one out of the bunch. Thought is probably involved somehow. 

Magic is weird. 

Focusing  _ really  _ hard on certain cards swallows those same cards up, keeps them at the edge of my mind for later usage. Trying to not think of pink elephants style. 

Huh. That must be how concentration in Dungeons and Dragons works, the ability for a spell-casting character uses to keep those same spells  _ ongoing _ .

Focusing on eventually doing my “sleight.” That’s the three card combos, I’m pretty sure. Just like spells. Or, er, what I  _ imagine  _ spells to be like. 

A flash of a black number: 1. And a Shadow headbutts my leg. It hurts a little, as I look down at the dumb Heartless. “Ow.”

Yeah. Maybe I should start working on that attacking thing. Before the many Shadows congregating at the edges of my sight swarm in to devour me whole. Lovely things, Heartless. 

...They are kinda cool-looking. Some of them. 

I examine Soul Eater once. No longer glowing blue. Apply another card,I suppose? Which I do, this time a Four. The glow returns. 

I nod. Satisfied. Good. I can  _ fight.  _ Probably. 

When my hand swings the blade, something else...almost does it for me. Muscle memory that isn’t really mine, that recalls how to swing my weapon, to move forward in attacking the Shadows. 

Keep applying cards and I keep hitting Shadows. My weird hand-flips serve me well in escaping Shadow attacks, keeping me out of range and getting me close in range to slice back. 

It’s not long until Soul Eater cuts apart the last Heartless and the arena about collapses. Allowing me to rejoin the bigger Monstro room once more. Along with some extras. 

Green orbs at my feet disappear once I walk into them, and my bruises lessen, disappear, with each step I take around those same green orbs. 

Red orbs disappear and I feel my pockets (under my skirt) fill. Like money, almost. If money were marbles.

And last of all, a card. A card in my hand. Huh. Bringing it closer to my eyes allows me to closely examine it. A red-bordered card with the faces of many Shadows on it and a number. Two. 

Huh. I shrug, pocketing it by shoving among my other cards in my deck. Cool, I guess? Should gather them, I might need more for later...which I’ll only get through more practice, of course!

My hands go on my hips as I survey the room. A large room  _ full  _ of Heartless, I can’t help but notice. Hm.

Did Vexen do that on purpose?

If so...I can’t disappoint him! Or myself. I need more cards. Which means more fighting. 

I pick out a few more wandering Heartless to practice on. As one does. I don’t want to be  _ completely  _ unprepared for what’s coming for me. 

(What this replica body is made for.)

There’s a bunch of strange variations on both Heartless and the cards I get as a reward that awaits me with each successful ambush I make. (And some less successful ones...but we don’t talk about those.) The terrible ghosties, always floating out of reach. Some fliers. And once, I even take on a Big Boy!

Just barely, bruised a whole tone afterwards, the resulting Health Orbs not quite enough to erase all of the pain, but I  _ did it.  _ Me, all by myself. 

“Whoa,” I breathe. Shake my head in wonderment. “ _ Whoa. _ ”

Man, I just might be getting a grip on this “waking-up-as-Riku-Replica” thing after all. 

“Excellent! Truly excellent!”

Whoa! Where did he come from!? I duck, enhanced reflexes serving me well in avoiding crazy scientist excitement in the form of widely waving hands. 

“I knew that the replicas would be successful! My greatest project, fulfilled.”

That’s...weirdly supportive, to be coming from a guy who just threw me to the Heartless because I couldn’t pay attention to his boring lecture. Supportive, in that he’s taking credit for everything I’ve been doing. Great. 

I’m...what do I do about this? My eyes goes down, to my boots, to my weird belts. And the deck of cards tucked away by those same belts. 

Questions. Yes. Questions are distracting, and I want to know things. It’s only a bonus if it means Vexen will stop hopping around like the madman he is. 

“Can you attack things, without the cards?” I ask, fingers tapping at my belt. Where my deck resides. 

“You can outside of the memory rooms, yes.” Vexen is far too eager to start explaining everything to me, for what I expected. And I mean  _ everything.  _ “And inside of the memory rooms, you can as well, technically. The attack, however, will not deal as much damage as when you use a card without it. Something connected to the card tells Castle Oblivion you’re ‘attacking,’ so to speak, so the Castle will allow you finish your attack. Fascinating to th-”

So many words. And they’re actually pretty interesting, even if there are a lot. Why is Vexen telling me so much, instead of lording over me how much I don’t know, being a replica? Isn’t that a basic Organization feature, keeping secrets and secrets from each other and everyone else?

What makes  _ me  _ different enough to break that streak? 

Careful, careful. Don’t test his patience. Just thank the heavens for good luck and keep going, when I can. Yeah. I can do that. I swallow. Choosing my next words carefully. Something I’ve never been very good at. Much better at blurting out my thoughts as they are, word-vomit almost. 

“Castle Oblivion...is everywhere like this?” I know, of course, that everywhere is  _ not  _ like this. But a newly created replica would have no idea of knowing that much, of what lies beyond the lab, the walls. 

“Of course it isn’t,” Vexen huffs once more, shaking his head at me. Like I would  _ know.  _ “This room-” he gestures at the spattered walls, the bright glowing flesh, “Is a memory of a world from outside of Castle Oblivion. The insides of a whale, actually.”

“Whose memories?” I ask next. Resist the urge to tap my foot against the floor, as Vexen taps at his chin. Clearly considering whether he should tell me anything or not. 

C’mon, man. You’re already been telling me so much, more than I really need to know, as a replica. You can stand to say just a bit more. 

“The Hero of Light,” he finally settles on. 

Which would explain exactly nothing if not the backload of Kingdom Hearts info trapped in my skull. Why does Organization XIII have to be so secret all of the time?

(Because screw Xehanort, that’s why.)

“The Hero of Light? Will I get to meet him?” Gotta play the know-nothing clueless replica game here. Or be pretending to play it, at least. 

“Perhaps. Depending how useful you are,” Vexen muses. Almost like I’m not there at all, lost in his own thoughts.  _ Science  _ thoughts. 

I bite my lip and fight the urge to rub at my nose. Standing there, waiting for whatever’s next on the Science agenda here. Whatever it is, I’m pretty sure I won’t like it. 

Just a guess. If I had to guess. (I don’t really want to guess.)

“Come along.” Vexen gestures and a Dark Corridor rises from the floor, eating away at the cheery colors to make them a pitch black. 

Super black, like Vantablack kind of black. 

I don’t think I’m going to get over that any time soon, the fact that Organization can tear open  _ blackholes _ to travel around with. Not  _ actual  _ blackholes, of course, but something close enough that that’s all I can think of, when my eyes see one. 

Hm.

Riku Replica used Dark Corridors at one point, didn’t he? Logically, that meant I should be able to do the same...

Should I ask about that? I consid-

“Are you following orders or not?”

Oh, right. My head quickly nods as my feet just as quickly move forward after the irritated man. Nobody. Whatever. 

I follow him into the Dark once more, this time careful to take in a deep breath before going all the way through the portal. To whatever lies on the other side this time. 

* * *

  
  


Breathing before  _ does  _ help. Less pressure on my lungs, to breath, with the air inside keeping my chest full enough to stand against that same pressure. 

Is this what sperm whales feel like, diving in the deep? Blind, surrounded by an immeasurable weight ready to crush you, should you let your breath go...

...I don’t think I would like to be a sperm whale. Be too stressful. 

We’re back in the lab. Of course. Where else would we be?

Vexen makes a beeline for the closest glowing computer screen, to type in whatever sciencey observations he’s made. 

As for me...well, I wander back over to the tubes. They are the brightest thing in the room, after all, after the computer screens. The computers that I’m pretty that would end up being my death should I end up touching one. 

No one’s yelled at me yet, for tapping at the tubes, so I guess I’m good there. My feet shuffle closer to the glowing pink glass. 

The warmest thing in the room. I huddle closer. Fight the urge to hug the tube, settle for rubbing my cheek against the warmth instead. Warm, warm, in this ice-cold place. 

My eyes close to almost slits, limiting the amount of pink glow I’m seeing. 

Hmmm. Not comfortable, not in this cursed Dark Suit and the overall cold, but the closest I’ve gotten in this irritating, too small body to that state of being. 

“Ah, there he is.”

I jump, back onto my feet, at the sudden cry. Quickly straighten my body, stand as still as I can, as I turn towards Vexen. 

See, see? I’m  _ paying attention _ . As for his part, Vexen doesn’t appear to be paying me very much attention at all, eyes still on the glowing screen. 

“Riku is currently located on the 8th level of the basement floors.” Vexen nods, satisfied. “A perfect place to test the Replica Project’s strength, once he exits the memory!”

Whoa, what? So soon. I bite my lip, rub my hands against my stiff skirt. 

“I...”

I don’t think I’m ready for this. Scratch that, I’m  _ definitely  _ not ready for this. But Vexen won’t take that as an answer. I’m going to be doing this, whether I want to or not. 

(At least Riku won’t kill me...)

“How do I get there? I can’t do...portals.” I gesture vaguely with my left hand. 

Radioactive eyes look over in response. Narrowing at me. His mouth twists into a scowl and his shoulder rise from their normal lowered stance. 

“Portals?  _ Portals?” _ Vexen puffs up like a particularly demented parrot, ready to peck my face off. His eyes glow even brighter as his face pales into something more...unnaturally colored. Pale like snow, or ice. “Those are Dark Corridors, not  _ portals _ .”

I...I can’t help it. My shoulders hunch and I look away, unable to meet those eyes. 

“Look at me,” he demands, talon-like hands grabbing my chin. Forcing me to meet his eyes. “I will show you how, but only once. Understand?”

A weak nod, all I can manage. Once he gets my response, he lets go, straightening to his full height. 

He’s so fricking tall, I hate it. Always looking down on me, even worse. 

“And once you are done with your task, you will come to the top Basement floor.”

I nod again. Say nothing, say nothing. Bite at my cheek, shove the words down. 

Besides, I’m also  _ curious _ . How do you do teleport around here? How does this magic work? Tell me, please. I would like to know, very much. 

Magic is cool and no one can tell me otherwise. I want to do  _ all  _ the magic. 

“Using your Darkness for a Corridor to move yourself quickly around a world works much like summoning your Dark Suit does,” Vexen begins, “One merely needs to focus on where you want to go, as you pictured your Dark Suit. Picture your beginning point, here, and then focus on where you will end up.”

“I don’t know what the 8th floor looks like,” I point out.

Vexen huffs again, a stream of freezing air in my face. Agh! I blink furiously, but don’t move other than that. “In Castle Oblivion, every floor looks the same so you can picture it right now,” he continues, waving a finger at me. “Merely add the number ‘eight’ to your focused picture as you call on your power.”

Hmmm....okay. 

I close my eyes and lift my hand. To point  _ away  _ from the tall man standing in front of me. I remember people doing that in the games, to open up Dark Corridors, so maybe if I do that...it’ll make it easier. 

Eight, eight, eight! I lift an eyelid, just a peek. Hm. Nothing. 

Try again. Still nothing. 

Oookay. So that isn’t working...what if I focus on Riku? He’s the person I’m tracking down in the first place, isn’t he?

His face comes much more clearly to my mind than the white rooms and the number eight. Probably because it’s my face too, now. 

(It’s  _ not _ my face.)

I  _ want  _ to see him! I haven’t seen him yet, I wonder how different he’ll be from the TV screen. But not too close, a little far so I can catch a glimpse of him before he does me. Safer that way. Riku would be a cool guy to meet, wouldn-

A tugging in my gut. I open my eyes, wrapping my hand around my mouth to force back the bile I feel climbing up my throat from my gut. 

And there it is. A super blackhole on the pale floor. My own personal teleportation device, with Riku on the other side. 

My Corridor...is small. Fairly small. The puddle that the Dark streaks rise from, where I’m supposed to walk in to disappear is only about the size of my feet shoved together. 

But Vexen seems satisfied by it anyway. “Decent enough for your needs, I suppose.”

He flicks a hand at me. “Now, Riku is on the 8th basement level. Go there and fight him. Draw out his Darkness. If you mock him about his weakness in not using it, that should be enough to lead him to that course of action...”

“And taunting him about Darkness will get him to use it?” I ask slowly. Just to be sure I’m getting this logic train right. 

Vexen laughs. Certainly not a nice laugh, more a scornful one. “If having myself merely appearing and talking about the Superior is enough to lure him into a fight, having his own replica mocking him should be more than enough to get him to draw on his Darkness.”

Is he wrong? ...Not really, and that’s the scary part. I didn’t know Vexen understood people that well. Well, enough to irritate the crap out of them, I guess. 

“And if he draws on it while I’m there, I get more power?” I check. Because Vexen doesn’t really seem interested in  _ Riku _ gaining more power, just in proving how awesome replicas are. And by extension, his own genius. 

“Correct again. You are awfully clever for a replica.” Those glowing eyes examine me, like he’s already contemplating the best way to rip me open, to see what’s inside. 

Leaves me uneasy. Shoulders shivering under the weight. I take a step back, towards my still open Corridor, the Darkness there tugging at my stomach. 

“Go find him. Fight him. And then return to me,” he orders. 

I nod. Anything to get out of here, away from that piercing gaze. 

And walk through, air filling my lungs, into nearly unbearable pressure. To what awaits me on the other side. Towards my double. 

* * *

  
  


The second I get out of my own Dark Corridor, I double over with a groan. Clutch at my gut as the gateway shuts closed right behind me. 

“Owww....”

I’m so  _ hungry _ , what the heck? The level of hunger where it’s like acid burning your insides. Reminds me of shark week...just a bit. But after spending a few moments spent crunching up like this, the pain fades. Still hungry. But I can move again. 

“The price for overwhelming power...” I muse, “...is just as overwhelming hunger?”

That’s weird. I’m totally going to have to raid a fridge later, see if Vexen’s got anything decent stored away. But then, this is  _ Vexen  _ we’re talking about. Any food would probably be used to grow mold experiments or something...

And are there fridges in the basement?

I shake my head, refocusing on the task at hand. The job that I  _ hate  _ having to do. Let’s check out what everything looks like first, before I do anything. 

The hall of Basement Level 8 is white. Like everything else in this place, excepting the memory rooms. Weird flower designs on the walls, and stone flower vases full of stone flowers scattered around  _ everywhere.  _

I eye the closest one. If I break it, will stuff come out of it? Like money or whatever those red marbles were? Oh, maybe even health orbs!

Well. I shrug, summoning Soul Eater with a twitch of my hand. Don’t know until you try it! Walk up and bash. The flowers don’t even look dented. 

I frown. Try again, harder this time. My weapon again bounces off without leaving even a scratch. 

Huh. Hm? Well, that’s a disappointment...

“Stop it,” I say out loud, shaking my head. “I’m just putting it off again.”

But who wouldn’t want to put off what’s coming? What’s expected of me. 

Why am I even following orders? I don’t want to be here anyway. I should run. 

But I shouldn’t. I have a plan, remember, brain? Leave when Organization is no longer around, not before. Safer that way. Follow orders, until then. 

(Coward.)

My head turns, to look down this long hall, towards the stairs waiting at its end. My free hand flexes at my side. 

Soon,  _ he _ ’ll be there. And I’ll be there to meet him, as his replica. I shiver, releasing Soul Eater to wherever weird appearing weapons go. That’s the expectation, the plan, I have to fill. 

This...this could make or break me. Or  _ will _ make or break me. 

Just acting, huh?

I could do that. Kind of. 

Never mind I got kicked out of a Hunger Games parody film because I was smiling too much. I can do this. How hard can it be?

Just be a prideful jackass, that’s all. Sass Riku back. Who would be able to tell the difference? Not Riku, that’s for sure.

I take a deep breath and  _ go for it _ . Speed-walk down the hallway, leaving no room for doubt. Hop down the stairs and keep going. No stops. Not for this. 

I walk into that room like I’m the hottest, chillest kid on the block. The ultimate chili dog. The big kahuna. The...enter something suitably rad and horrifying here. 

And pretty lose all of those vibes when I see Riku. Stop and  _ stare.  _

Riku...whoa.

He’s  _ real _ . Silvery hair and tanned skin, stupid yellow shirt, stupid blue pants, and blue-green eyes that remind me of a summer lagoon. Flesh and blood, not animated at  _ all _ . Which shouldn’t be a shock to me, really. I have just spent an inordinate amount of time with Real Person Vexen and the back of Zexion’s head. 

But Riku’s  _ different.  _ He’s a  _ hero _ , shown up in pretty much every Kingdom Hearts game at least once. One of the main characters! Which is pretty awesome! Too bad I have to pick a fight with him, on Vexen’s orders. 

Fight my urge to fall back, choosing instead to start walking forward again. Until he sees me. Me, who looks exactly like him. 

“What are you supposed to be?” Teal eyes widen as his mouth drops open. 

Well, I suppose it would be pretty weird to see an exact clone of yourself walk into the room, dressed like you and all. 

I smirk. Open my mouth and my mind goes... _ blank.  _ Uh. 

I don’t  _ remember my lines _ . Or, er, Riku Replica’s lines. 

Well, poop. Guess I have to wing it. 

“Well, well, well. Look who’s here.”

Mean. Gotta to play it mean. Ham it up, evil villain-style. That’s what happened in canon, right? And something something lookalikes?

“Probably wondering why we look the same, huh?” I tap my foot against the ground, throwing out my hands to the side. “Well, I’m a replica Vexen made of your data. Pretty neat, huh?”

“So you’re a fake me,” Riku states, gesturing to himself and then me. 

My eyes narrow. I feel my face scrunch up, just a bit. The scowl on my face grows more real in response. Fake? Just because I’m a  _ copy _ don’t make me fake by default.

“Not a  _ fake _ !” I slap my hand out to the side. “You may be the original, but that doesn’t make you better than me!”

Why am I so... _ mad _ ? I’m not the  _ actual  _ Riku Replica, just someone who’s taken his place. Yet Riku still manages to piss me off. 

I go for a nice, basic insult. One that I  _ know  _ Riku hates. 

“You’re a coward!”

“What? I’m no coward!” Riku bristles, stepping towards me. 

“Sure you aren’t,” I scoff, throwing back my head. Brushing my hand through my hair. Now, to bring this back to what Vexen wanted from me, what my “programming” is built to handle. To take in, to the max. “You’re  _ scared  _ of the Dark, while I’m  _ not!  _ Coward!”

Riku’s mouth moves like a fish’s gasping for air. 

With a grin, I go in for the kill. “I can use it, why can’t you? Too  _ scared _ ?”

A wave of my hands and my Dark Suit encloses me. Flick my right hand and bring out my Soul Eater. 

Vexen wants a fight? Well, I’m going for it. 

I dive right in, slashing my weapon at Riku. Riku, who dodges back, summoning his own Soul Eater in response. 

And the battle...begins. Booyah!

Fighting Riku is  _ really, really  _ different from fighting Heartless, I have to say. Which is what I sorta expected, really? But not really at the same time cuz I never played Chain of Memories all the way through. Or Re:Chain of Memories, really. 

Stupid card system. 

He’s constantly on the move. Taking complete and full advantage of reality being composed of three dimensions. Jumping, sliding, doing his front flips...crazy. 

Utterly and completely confident in every movement he makes. Smirking at me the entire time too. 

_ Show-off.  _

I grit my teeth and tighten my grip around my Soul Eater. 

I’ll  _ show him _ , snotty teenage boy. He’s not even using any Darkness!

(And why does that matter?)

Charge up my cards and get to work. That’s right,  _ get to work.  _ No stopping me now. 

I grin over my blade at Riku. Prepare my sleight, packed full of Darkness. 

“Ready to go?”

My fingers flick out my cards, and I move forward in attack. Swiping at legs, arms, whatever, with my Soul Eater. Not trying to  _ really  _ hurt him, of course, I don’t want to  _ do that.  _

I launch a few sleights, my swinging attack, my spin. I even try for my diving Darkness attack (a Helm Split, I think it’s called?). 

Riku (that lucky bastard) breaks through half of them with his own powered up Soul Eater and dodges the rest. My splattering Darkness manages to catch him briefly mid-dodge, but he winces and shakes it off. Keeps moving. 

Stubborn. 

But then, I already knew that, didn’t I? 

I try for a nice front flip of my own. If he can do it, so can I! But I fumble. Slip. Providing Riku with the perfect opening, which he takes, eyes bright with determination. 

Soul Eater goes for my face.  _ Agh! _

Somehow, my own  _ new  _ reflexes kick in and I get my own weapon between Riku’s and my face. We’re meeting each other’s eyes, snarling at each other. My shoulder trembles as I push him back as much as I can as he shoves at me. 

Cards, cards, cards! Our Soul Eaters glow and shine, as we each shove as many cards as we can into them. Mine shines a deep red, rather than a familiar blue, as I shove my Darkness in as well. 

_ C’mon, c’mon _ ! I won’t lose this!

“Back! Off!” Riku screams, and he  _ flares.  _ For lack of a better word for it. Black light (or not light) flashes from him as he whirls around like a demented top. Knocking me back against the far wall. 

“Agh!” I scream too, the smack-back activating every bruise on my back at once. My nerves are on  _ fire. _

I fall. Struggle to my knees, breathing and struggling for breath. 

But unable to stand up right away. Unable to continue this fight.  _ Everything burns.  _ Bruises all over me, hurts I hadn’t caught while in the heart of battle. Better than bleeding cuts, but too bad my Dark Suit can’t prevent all of the damage done to my body over the fight. Would be nice if the itchy thing could pay for its keep. 

But more importantly, I  _ lost.  _

Frick _. Frick.  _ I  _ failed.  _ Knew I would, a replica that’s fought maybe half a dozen Heartless is not going to match up to  _ Riku _ , the Hero of Darkness and deuteragonist of the Kingdom Hearts series. 

Failure still burns.

“Hey, Fake!” Riku shouts at me, lowering his weapon. “I thought that was going to be a  _ good  _ fight.”

Not a good fight? Got to admit that’s true...but my heart burns. That  _ hurts.  _ I’m no hero, I’ve existed one or two days at most. Of course I’m not too good. Still hurts. Yeah.  _ Yeah.  _

“Just you wait! I’ll get stronger!” I stab my finger in his direction as I slowly rise to my feet. Scowling. “Kick your butt!”

“You’re a fake!” he points out. 

Like that fact makes him stronger by  _ default.  _ Like being a fake  _ matters.  _

“So?” Put my hands on my hips,  _ sneer  _ at him. “That doesn’t mean  _ anything _ , except that you’re older. Buttface.”

Riku’s face twitches in a somewhat complicated fashion. I watch, fascinated. Has the face I now wear ever looked like that to anyone else? “ _ Buttface _ ?” he squeaks. 

“Yeah, that’s right.  _ Buttface _ .” 

Soul Eater raises again, as Riku dashes forward to take a swing. 

Now it’s my turn to inwardly freak out. I don’t move, though. I don’t have to. My Darkness does it for me. Acting on my freak-out, it rises, a hungry shield. Just as hungry as my ongoing hunger pangs.

Knocks Riku back. Shocked Pikachu face and all, there he falls onto the ground. I bite at my lip, trying to hide my own surprise. Whoa. So that’s a...thing. Didn’t know that happened thing. 

Guess I should mock him? Sorta a jerk thing to do...but just acting. Remember. It’s all just acting. 

(Like I’m pretending to be a boy. To be nothing more than a replica of Riku.)

( _ Pretending. _ That’s all.)

“That’s sad.” I squat on the floor, next to the fallen Riku. “You seem pretty tired. How ‘bout you take a nap while I get better?”

He pants there, eyes closed. Seeming kind of hurt? He’s lost his wind, at the very least, with the gust of breathe that just escaped him. 

Ergh, my gut aches a bit in sympathy, as does my back, but I can’t stop now. Vexen’s sure to be watching and I’m sure to die if I offer a hand to the enemy. My buttfaced teenage nemesis, as stupid as that sounds. 

Rising out of my squat is a bit of pain, my legs  _ and  _ butt hurt. Ache. But I manage it, turning around to run off to the stairs. 

“Wait!” The slap of shoes against the floor. 

Wait, he’s up? Coming after me? Frick. Run, run, run! I pump my legs, sliding around the corner. Reach for the power in my gut and race right into a Dark Corridor that I aim towards the lab. A Corridor that comes at my call with almost no effort at all, at least compared to my last attempts. Slip right through that same Dark Corridor like it’s some demonic slip-and-slide. 

Sliding and I don’t stop. My eyes widen at the wall rapidly getting closer. 

“Nononono-!”

And smash. Hit my face right against the wall. It...hurts. Ouch. My nose is sore, but I don’t think I’ve broken it? Or anything else?

Ouch, but home free! Well...kind of. I’m still stuck up against the wall. The white, white wall. At least I’m not bleeding on it, that would be hard to hide. 

Peeling myself off the wall isn’t too bad. About normal for me, with my usual clumsiness. It’s rather inconvenient, that’s all, to run into a wall like this. Kind of surprising it hadn’t happened, before now. Maybe having Riku data makes me more graceful, like Riku? Food for thought. 

Still aching and hurting from the Riku fight, but at least there is no one here to witness my utter and complete face-planting failure. 

...Where is everyone, then? And by everyone, I mean Vexen and Zexion. Where are they, if not here?

Hm. I pat at the big ugly bruise on my face, humming thoughtfully. Hey, didn’t Vexen say something before I left...? Think, think, think. 

Hunger gnaws at my stomach, nearly turning it inside out. Hard to think, with that going on in my body. Frick, I need some  _ food.  _ Badly. But think!  _ Focus.  _

Somewhere on the higher levels of the basement, where Zexion went. Where that other guy went, the guy with the rocks that never talks, what was his name...?

Well, he must be there too. And Vexen. Waiting for me to report back. 

( _ Failure _ .)

My stomach cramps up again, this time for an entirely different reason than hunger. 

“I have to go. Can’t stay here.”

Think of Vexen. Need to go to Vexen. 

I focus, waving my hand. A Dark Corridor appears. It’s smaller than Vexen’s (again), but that’s okay, I am also smaller than Vexen. (Ugh.) Blackness and darkness awaits me. Along with more pain. And stomach-aches. Yaaay.

I suck in one last long breath and step through. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe the real reason Riku Replica was super grumpy in Chain of Memories was that he was hangry the whole time...  
> Notes on game mechanics: Riku will not have Dark Form in this. All of the abilities, but no actual Dark Form and DP. It's fun for game-play, but storywise, Riku using Dark Form all of the time makes no sense since he's avoiding using Darkness at the start of CoM. I'm considering whether the Moogles are real or not, do you think the Moogle Room are illusions of Moogles? Or actual Moogles? Hmm...
> 
> Slower update speed after this, all of my other chapters right now are written out of order and still need editing/finishing. Thank you, NaNoWriMo. What a fantastic time...


	3. Rewritten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our Hero proceeds to Piss Off every single Organization member in the building. And has a panic attack afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is an exchange that is in here that is pretty much word for word what happens in Chain of Memories. I don't own it.

The stomach-ache does attack me on the other side, as promised. I’m so tired of this junk. There’s got to be a better way of teleporting that won’t leave me starving and as sick as a dog every time I use it. 

Seriously. This is getting _old._ And I haven’t even had the ability to teleport for very long _at all._

..I’m craving some serious pie. Maybe pumpkin. There has to be _somewhere_ in the universe where I can get a decent pumpkin pie. Chilled and everything. Maybe a dash of whipped cream, too? Ugh.

I trudge through the halls towards my final destination. Well, hopefully it’s not my _final final_ place to go. But what can I do? I run, there’s still an entire Organization there to chase me. Better to leave when there are less members still...alive. 

As cruel as that sounds. And I’ve never been good at waiting. 

But I can do it! I’ll thrive on the chaos when it comes, troublemaker, that’s me. 

Oh, there’s the door. I push it open and...there’s three Organization members that all turn towards me. All much taller than me, except for Zexion, who’s probably only about a head above me. Uh.

I shake my head. Step into the room. No room for doubt, no room for fear. 

“So, how was the real thing?” Vexen asks. 

Again, with this _real thing_ nonsense. No wonder Riku Replica got a complex about the entire situation. Now, to prove to the scientist I’m totally up for the job...the job that I really don’t have any interest in, except for not dying in the process.

“He’s _terrified_ of his own Darkness. No way he’s going to improve at all. Not like me.”

A promise to myself. I need to get stronger, if I’m going to survive anything that’s coming for me.

Which Vexen takes as a promise to him, with a nod. Reasonable enough for him to suppose, I guess. 

He puts his hand up to his chin, glowing eyes considering me. 

“In the meantime, would you be interested in meeting another who’s considered a hero?”

Oh. _Oh._ Ah, this is where it starts _getting good._

“The Hero of Light you mentioned, right? Sora.” I grin. Big and fake. Not like any of these guys are going to know the difference, being so insistent on denying their feelings and all. “Sure. Want me to take him?”

Vexen hums. Thinking some more. “We’ll see...Yes... I intend to make good use of you.”

 _Good use of you_ . I bite my cheek, hold back the shiver that threatens to roll down my spine. Like I’m a _tool._ Which to him, I am. 

“But in the meantime...” 

Vexen tosses a bottle at me. I just manage to catch it, bouncing across my palms. My eyes widen, once I get a better look at it. Green, glowing, and has a star pattern on it. A potion?

“Clean yourself up.” His index finger gestures to my lovely facial bruise. 

“Of course.” Frick. How do I use a potion? I can do a card one, but a physical one like this...I don’t know. They’re all watching me and struggling with a potion is not going to assure them of my competence. 

Um. Open it first? Yeah. Do that. 

My fingers fumble at the top, as I carefully open the bottle. It _fizzes._ I blink, peering down the bottleneck to whatever’s inside. Like soda?

...what goes in a potion anyway?

A large hand closes around the bottom and my hands. I can’t help it. I _meep,_ in response. 

The owner of that large hand, the big guy whose name I can never remembers, ignores me and _crunches_ the bottle, pressing my hands against each other in the process. Crushing a soda can, almost, that’s the vibe I get. 

If soda cans shattered apart into glowing green flurries that fly into your face. 

I sneeze. Feels _weird,_ having the glowies eat away my bruise, making my face fall asleep. Until it’s gone, and the rest of my hurts are too. 

I look up, to meet serious blue eyes. In a face that quite literally looks like it’s been carved from stone. Ah, _Lexaeus_ , that’s his name!

“Thanks.”

He grunts, moving away to his spot next to Zexion. 

I look over my hands, front and back. No green light or glass shards or anything. Gone. Like _magic._ Awesome.

I almost smile. Or maybe I do smile. I’ve never been very good at controlling my facial expressions. 

“Come here.” Again, there’s that familiar voice, that familiar gloved hand beckoning me. 

Again, I follow right away. Quick in my step as I head over right next to Vexen. 

He looks down at me with a sniff, turning away to open up a portal with a wiggle of his fingers. Heads straight through. 

Well, that’s somewhere else to go. Somewhere to follow. (For now..)

But before that...one last thing. One last urge, tug in my starving stomach. 

I can’t resist the urge. My hand does a little wave, directed towards Zexion and Lexaeus, right before I turn to follow Vexen in the Dark once more. 

Don’t get to see their response, as a result, but that’s fine. Will I get to see Sora, on the other side? That would be _cool._

* * *

We do not end up in a brightly-colored memory room after the Corridor, like I had been half-expecting. I do not get any hungrier than before, too. So I guess it’s just my own portals that leave me starving. 

No, this is another white room. One much brighter, more well-lit, than any of the others I had even been to before. With actual windows! And people in there, waiting for us. 

People with pink, blond, and red hair. 

Marluxia, Larxene, and Axel. In black coats, of course. When are they not?

Oh. _Oh._ So this is where the plotting happens, where the key to the messed up plot that is Chain of Memories began. The top floor, I think. 

Vexen steps forward, getting all of their attention. Announcing his greatness, probably. Larxene and him exchange a few words and then Axel steps forward for a chat. Which is fine, he can do that while I do something else. My eyes flick around the room. 

Busy, looking for the other person that I _know_ has to be here...

Ah! In the corner!

And there she is, the star of this deeply messed up show. Namine. 

She’s...small. Very small, away in her corner, on her small chair, like she’s trying not to take up any space. Afraid to be noticed. 

Pale. Almost see-through. Reminds me of one of those cave-fish, the ones that have no eyes in their deep lightless waters. The bright light doesn’t help that impression at all, washing her possible colors out. 

My eyes flicker down to her feet. No shadow. Not even a pooling of darkness below her sandaled feet. 

Despite the bright light right on her, she casts no shadow. 

Like she’s not even there. 

Despite myself, I can’t help but shiver a bit, at that. Creepy. 

Her eyes are lowered, towards the book in her lap. 

“Why don’t you follow your master, little replica?” I look up, to meet blue, blue eyes. Marluxia. He stinks of roses, of iron. He smiles. It’s not a nice smile. 

There are thorns, poking through that pink hair. Growing the longer I watch. And his hands...there are more, creeping from his sleeves. Ready to scratch me open. 

I swallow, nod. And quickly walk after Vexen. Until I’m standing behind him, off to the side, now part of the conversation that I had been missing. 

“I think an experiment would show if he is really of any worth to us.”

Oh? He said experiment. Probably talking about me? I look over, away from Namine, to see the Nobodies in the middle of a hissy fight. As to be expected, of the Organization.

Larxene scoffs. “Humph. Well, here we go again.” She wiggles a finger at Vexen. “It’s just an excuse so you can carry out your little experiments, that’s all.”

Oh, fight time? Hissy fight time?

“I’m a scientist. Experiments are what I do, yes.” 

“Whatever. You can do what you want.” Axel, this time. “But you know, I think testing Sora is just a cover for testing your valet.”

Which is me. The valet, I mean. Which...that’s rather rude. But all of these Nobodies are rude.

Vexen folds his arms over his chest. “Valet? He’s the product of pure research.”

Thank you, Vexen. Kind of?

Larxene leans forward, for some more scoffing. “What he actually is is a toy.”

A toy...I don’t like the sound of that. 

“Humph. You should just learn to be quiet.”

That’s right, you tell her, Vexen!

Axel shakes his head. Clearly exhausted by being in the middle of this dumb fight. “Anyway...since you came all this way, you’re gonna need this.” He holds up a familiar blue card. A memory card!

“A humble gift to my elder. I hope you use it to put on a very good show for us.” The redhead presents the card with a flourish. 

Vexen takes it, of course. Why wouldn’t he? He looks at the card and then me, before returning his gaze to the card. 

“That card holds the memories of Sora and Riku’s home,” Axel continues. 

Hm. This scene seems...vaguely familiar. Don’t I say something here? “Am I using that?”

At that point, all of the Nobodies look at me. I almost take a step back, under the weight of their unsettling stares. No human eyes watching me there, not really. Too bright, too colorful, too...animal. 

Larxene steps forward, a smile on her face. A cruel smile, too wide for human lips. “With a little help from Namine, you’ll have all of the real Riku’s memories!”

Oh. Oh no. I know where this is going now. I don’t fight the urge this time and step back. 

To be honest, I had known this was coming. Half-remembered it, even. But I...hadn’t really thought about it. Afraid, maybe, afraid enough to pretend that it wouldn’t happen. 

Pretending that I didn’t know anything...well, that had worked out _just_ great, hasn’t it?

Because here I am, about to get myself mindwiped like the canon Riku Replica. 

Oh _no_.

“Maybe we can get her to make you forget you’re nothing but a _fake_.” Venom in audial form. Why me?

“No.” I shake my head before she can continue even further. “No. I don’t need his memories, I’m fine,” I insist. 

Hopelessly. I know how this ends. 

She narrows her eyes at me. Smiling, taking real pleasure in _this._ But she doesn’t talk to me anymore. Turns to Vexen. 

“Any objections, Vexen? After all, you do want to test Sora, don’t you?”

Vexen’s answer is no defense. Not at all. “It must be done.”

_No. Nononono._

Lightning in my veins, an electricity independent of anything Larxene’s cooking up. My heart picks up, pounding in my chest. My breath catches in my throat. 

What is this?

My body tells me: this, this is _terror._

_I don’t want to die!_

I _might_ be protected from Namine’s mind-powers, by virtue of...who am I kidding, there was no guarantee of that. For all I knew, I _had_ existed in canon, before...this. 

It didn’t matter, if the replica was a bit different than expected. Not when Namine would erase all of it, and squish what was left into Riku shape even further. The story would go as intended, the replica would fight Sora and after having an identity crisis, would die. 

And I...wouldn’t be there. For anything of it. 

Not if Namine put Riku-memories in the body where I currently reside. 

_I don’t want to die!_

“No! Don’t do this!” I plea. Useless, as Larxene laughs in my face. Prowling towards me. 

Something about my terror freezes the moment forever, in my memory. Later, on reflection, I’ll know exactly what each Organization member did in response to my plight, as my eyes raced around, looking from face to face. Searching for escape. 

Marluxia doesn’t even bother looking at me, turning away. Already slotting me away as a pawn to move on a chessboard. 

Axel rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he settled up against the wall. Another day at work, for him. 

At the time, none of this is important. These snapshots are for later. For after I break the game. This moment, I’m only truly aware of two people: Larxene and Vexen. 

Larxene, who comes for me.Vexen, who does nothing to stop what comes for me.No, worse than nothing. 

“I said I would make good use of you, didn’t I?”

He _agrees._ He _stands aside._

I _knew_ he did nothing, from the games. Yet. It still hurts. My heart burns. Why did it hurt?

I don’t know what I’m thinking, for what happens next. Maybe that’s the key: I’m _not_ thinking.

I’m afraid, very afraid. I want to run. So I do. Skitter out of Larxene’s reach, her grabbing hands. She’s not quite laughing at my fear, but there’s _something_ loud and harsh coming out of her mouth.

I can’t hear it over the thunder in my ears. The pounding of my feet. 

I run. Dodging between the bodies in my way. They let me. Where would I run to? 

“Come here, you little rat,” Larxene hisses. Stalks after me, her heels clicking loudly on the pale floor. A crackling sound follows soon after her words. 

If I fight her...I’ll lose. If I lose, I’m dead. Gone. Probably.

But I don’t want to risk it. 

Not thinking, reacting. Running. 

Namine! Heading towards Namine, that’s where Larxene wants me anyway. The girl looks up, startled, as I rush right up to her. Her sketchbook, loose in her lap. 

A word, harsh in my throat, not really mine even if it’s in “my” voice, pushes out. 

“ _Run_!”

My fingers close around her wrist. She gives off a soft cry, but I ignore in favor of gripping that Darkness that I know will get me out of here...

Anywhere but here, anywhere but here...

In a way, I suppose, Vexen making me face Riku sealed our fates. 

My Darkness certainly would have not risen to my call, my fear, as easily as it does, if not for that first fight. Swallows me whole. Swallows the person whose wrist I now hold as well. Spirals us into the dark, away from Larxene’s screech. And the rest of the Nobodies’ loud cries of surprise. 

(Why the surprise? They armed me. Surely they knew I would use it eventually.)

We roll out together, onto a familiar white floor. Tiled and clean. 

The same floor I’ve been seeing for a while now. Woke up to. 

“Back early?”

Boots. Organization boots. 

Frick. Of _course_ he’s here. Still here. 

Can’t stay, he’ll just send us back. I reach for the feeling my gut, my already howling gut and dig in for just a little more. Just one trip, please. Away from all Organizations members. As far as I can get us. 

Zexion looks down at us, tilting his head. Allowing both physical eye and strange skin-Nobody eyespot to look down at us. The better to see us with, of course!

Namine is shaking against me. _I’m_ shaking back, my hand tight around hers. But before Zexion does anything...

I scream, as I grab that Darkness of mine one last time.

I’ve done it!

Where are we going? ...I don’t know. But away from all of this feels good. 

Another snap, another flash of Darkness, surrounds the two of us. Swallows us up. 

Sending us into the depths of Castle Oblivion. 

* * *

Here’s a secret: I didn’t really like Namine. Before. Of the four, maybe five, women that showed up in Kingdom Hearts, she sat at the bottom of the list. 

Aqua and Xion fought, like everyone else did in these games, and their tragedies bought my sympathy. Larxene was a villain, but still passed my muster. Kairi...a bit more difficult, but it was easier to understand her lack being a result of poor writing, and she _did_ express a desire to fight back canonically. (Even if canon itself would never give her the chance.)

But Namine...Namine was different. Different enough from the others in ways that drew my ire. Passive where others were active, constantly self-doubting. She didn’t even believe she was a person! 

And letting others abuse and use her like that...how could anyone do _that?_ Awful. _Xion_ had fought back against the same abuses, why couldn’t Namine too? And to passively accept becoming part of Kairi, _dying_...my gag reflex came up at that. Ugh. 

Weak. Terribly, dreadfully _weak._

Not to mention the memory thing...terrifying beyond measure, to have someone out there who could shape “you” to their whim. How could you fight an enemy that your memories screamed was a friend?

The most dreadful of abuses could happen that way. Terrifying, and it was in the hands of a weak girl, used to tear Sora apart by terrible enemies. 

_Weak._ Too _weak._

So I thought. 

But the truth...here’s the truth: I was ignorant. The true awful one here. Ignorant of what it meant to be broken, to be abused. To live every moment deathly afraid that the next would be your last, that those who should have protected you instead hurt you. 

Namine...had been terribly brave to stand against her abusers as she did, in the end. Even with the fear that indubitably plagued her, she still stood up. 

Still fixed Sora, said sorry. 

Not weak at all, but strong in ways that I had never recognized, Before. 

Or perhaps, the truth is this: I’ve never met a mirror I didn’t want to break. Not her fault, of course, but mine...mine for being too weak, for being unable to face such a clear reflection of myself. Of the person I used to be. Unbearably so. 

Now, in the depths of this dark world, I found her...unbearably strong. Stronger than me, at any rate. 

* * *

I’m shaking. Vibrating enough to possibly throw myself into another dimension if I keep it up. My hands...shaking so much. I can’t stop. Why can’t I stop?

Seated on the ground. When did I stop standing, when did I start sitting instead? There’s no hand in mine...when did I let go?

My back hurts. My stomach aches and _burns_ , acid rumbling around in an empty hungry chasm. My mouth is dry, my head thumping like a parade’s going on inside my skull, and a number of other small things that all assure me of one reality I’ve managed to score for myself. 

I’m alive, I’m alive, everything in my sore body screams. I _lived._

Holy monkeys. I’m alive and not mind-wiped and I _just kidnapped Namine._

Whoa. Woops? 

...What do I do now? No guidelines, no map of the future to lead the way. Maybe, if I had left Namine behind, I would still be able to guess what’s coming, though it would happen without me. 

But I didn’t leave Namine behind. She’s here, watching me quietly. Observing me, from her own spot on the ground, while I try not to bang my head against my knees with my shivering and trembling. 

Her eyes are bright, too bright against the white of her surroundings and the white that she wears. She should be a shadow fading away, as a Nobody. 

Yet...

She _glows._ Leaving slight after-images as she moves, interacts with me. Concern clear in her face, reaching out to pat at my shoulder before thinking better of it. Withdrawing it.

“I’m sorry.”

Wait, what?

“You don’t need to be sorry.” I shake my head. “It’s...not your fault.”

I claw at my covered legs, at my stupid stiff skirt. 

The Dark Suit, it itches. Unbearably itchy. Everywhere. My fingers rub at my covered legs, scratching uselessly. No way the gloved up fingers can claw through such thick material. 

Protective? Probably. It’s some kind of armor, isn’t it? But also _hell_ to my senses. Combining the worse textures all together in some stupid, nearly _impossible_ to take off, suit. 

Riku wore clothes under his, didn’t he, like I did? Good clothes, not the weird fakes I wore. Why did _frickin Vexen_ give me the same? Instead of something actually decent. 

Probably cuz he wasn’t thinking about it. The man wears the same stupid zipper-coat every single day, for crying out loud. 

Of _course_ he wouldn’t be thinking about clothes. Why am _I_ thinking about clothes?

I grit my teeth. Scratch harder. Still as useless as before. 

I can’t take it off. Why can’t I take it off?

“I _hate_ this. Hate, hate, hate,” I chant.

Pressure built up behind my eyeballs. My teeth tear into my lips, keeping back the scream growing in my throat. 

Too much, too much. Too much in too short of a time. 

That same quiet voice cuts through my frantic thoughts like the sharpest of knives. 

“Riku, are you okay?”

“That’s not my name.” The words slip out before I have a chance to stop them. 

Namine quiets at that. Her blue eyes carefully watch me, as she nibbles at her lower lip. “Then...what is your name?”

No hesitation. 

“Um.” What’s my name? I search my memories. 

It’s a lot easier than you would think, forgetting your own name. Especially when no one’s been calling you by it. Like searching for a tooth in your mouth, only to find an empty gap with your tongue instead. 

Don’t realize it’s gone, until you start looking. 

My mind itches. “I...wait a sec.”

“Oh.” Her eyes are far too understanding. _Kind._

How could _anyone_ think that Nobodies didn’t have hearts? _How_? Lies and slander, of course, like everything else in Kingdom Hearts Land. 

“I don’t have one,” I eventually admit. Lamely. What kind of person doesn’t have a _name_ ? What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I _remember?_

Thwack at my forehead with the base of my palm. Doesn’t fix anything, not even my raging headache. No name comes floating up, like I’m some demeted 8-ball. 

My teeth, in my cheek again. I want to chew it til I _bleed_. 

Namine hugs her arms to her chest. Her eyes are _so_ bright. Not as bright as Vexen’s eyes, but pretty close in intensity, with the way she watches me. _Worshipful_ , almost. 

I look away, unable to bear her scrutiny. Too much. I didn’t do anything for her, not really. Just ran for it and she happened to be there when I did. 

I’m no hero. Just some schmuck caught in a game beyond her control. A woman that doesn’t know her own name. 

What kind of person doesn’t know _their own name_?

Who am _I?_

I look down at my hands. My covered up, blue-gloved hands. No, they’re not even _my_ hands. They’re _Riku’s_ hands. Everything about this body belongs to Riku, except for that fact that there’s someone else walking around inside of it. 

Wrong. _Wrong._

I _shouldn’t_ exist here. I _shouldn’t_ be here. There should be someone else here, standing in this body, staring at these hands. 

This _isn’t_ right. _Isn’t_ fair. 

I’ve said in the past, that I embrace chaos. I’m a big fat liar. Everything is the _worst_ , when it goes off schedule. Off the rails. People who can roll with the punches...those are the strongest of all. 

I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to die. 

_I don’t want to die._

Be better if I did. Less risky. 

Too late for that now. 

_But I don’t want to die._

“What do you want your name to be then?” Namine’s innocent question cuts right through my spiraling thoughts. Again. A bit muffled but still manages to grab my attention. This time, I glance over once she asks the question, to catch how she’s hunched up. Sitting on the floor, with her arms wrapped around her legs, face nearly buried in those same legs. Quivering. 

Like she’s expecting me to... _hit her._ For daring to speak up, for interrupting my tirade with another question. 

I chew on my cheek again, biting back a hiss. 

This is _wrong_ . Everything about this is _wrong._ Kids deserve better than to be constantly afraid, terrified of being a _person._

I wanna punch Larxene. But not yet, because I’m not strong enough and she’ll kill me like she almost did before I ran. 

(Have to get stronger.)

Air rasps in and out of my mouth. I breath. As steady as I can manage it. 

Got to be strong, now. 

I _promised_ , didn’t I?

(Promise.)

A short gasp. My head turns, to look at the source head-on. 

“Your eyes...” Namine stops. Almost afraid to say more. 

“Hm?” I nod. Go on, go on. 

“They’re...different.”

“They are? How?”

Namine pauses. Searching for a proper description. “They’re...darker. Less green.” Her fingers wiggle, like they’re lacking something to color with, as she tries to describe my eyes further. “Deep blue. Like...really, really deep ocean.”

“Huh.”

That color sounds familiar...like I knew someone with eyes like that once. 

My fingers rub underneath my eye socket, right on the edge of my cheekbone. I can’t see them myself, of course, without a mirror. I trust her. 

“Well, you know what they say about eyes...”

“What do they say?” Namine tilts her head. 

I smile. “That they’re windows to the heart.”

* * *

  
  


That moment of utterly shocked silence doesn’t last long. 

Broken, of course, by Vexen’s whining. “What a complete waste! I should have never brought the replica up here, if this is what you do with him!”

“We didn’t do _anything_ to it _,_ ” Axel points out, slowly rising from where he leans against the wall. “Your replica went and stole itself. And Namine too.”

Vexen shakes his head violently, blond hair flying everywhere. Frost, itching its way down his face, from his eyes, his mouth. 

“I should have never followed your orders, _Number Eleven._ If this is what comes of them.”

“That sounds...traitorous of you, Vexen,” Marluxia remarks. Calmly. As if no one can smell the ever strengthening scent of blood and roses in the air. Until it’s thick enough to make everyone almost choke on it. 

“What? No! Of course not!” Vexen thrusts his fists down, by his sides. _Glaring_ with everything he's got. “Since you show no concern for my work...I will track him down myself.”

The Nobody stomps through a Dark Corridor. Most likely vanishing back to his lab. Or to Lexaeus and Zexion, to complain some more to them. 

Not that it matters. Not when Vexen’s project had stolen their own. 

“That _fool._ Bringing up that replica when he hadn’t even properly trained it...” Marluxia almost growls, littering flowers petals in his wake. 

“Stupid puppet. We’re going to have to start all over...” Larxene agrees, with a hissing groan that sounds like a gas leak. 

“Relax,” Axel drawls. The other two look over, to where the redhead now stands next to the seat Namine once occupied. 

He holds up a book between two fingers. A book that flops open, revealing doodles and sketches of all colors, scribbled in crayon on otherwise blank pages. “She can’t change any of Sora’s memories without this, isn’t that right?”

Marluxia’s boots tap loudly against the floor as he makes his way towards Axel. Raising his hand slowly to take the sketchbook from him.

“That is...correct. Our plans have not been completely scattered. Not yet.”

He flips through the pages, eventually settling on one of the newer pictures. A picture of a brown-haired boy holding hands with two others, and a fourth girl with blond hair on the end of the chain. 

“He’s already lost his memories and he’s looking for new ones. His ‘true’ memories. Namine planted the seeds, all we have to do...” Marluxia smiles, cold and cruel. As sharp as his own scythe. “...is make sure they grow the way _we_ want them to.”

“What about the replica? The dumb thing might run into Sora,” Larxene says with a sneer, tapping her fingers together. Marluxia raises his chin slightly, and she quiets, waiting for him to speak. 

“Well, if the _replica_ wants to do anything with Namine...it’ll have to come back here. For this.” Marluxia gestures with the sketchbook.

“And we’ll be waiting,” Larxene finishes for him. Her eyes gleam with the afterglow of thunderstorm happening inside of a cloud, her hair full of sparks. 

Marluxia turns on his heel. “But don’t destroy it. If we give it the right incentive, it will lead us straight back to Namine.”

“ _Oh_ , I won’t destroy the little toy.” Larxene grins nastily, flipping her knives between her gloved fingers. “That would be _too_ easy.”

“Let _me_ handle this,” Axel speaks up suddenly. 

Larxene eyes him, lips pursed. “Oh come on, Axel, let me have some fun here. It’ll be so much _better_ than fighting the stupid hero again.”

“Then track the replica yourself,” Axel retorts, folding his arms over his chest. “How about we make it a race, even?”

“Hmmm.” Larxene considers the offer, flipping her knives up and down once more. “And what about Vexen? He’s such a _bore_ . And he’ll complain _forever_.”

“What _about_ him?”

A sly smile, glittering lightning at her fingertips. “Are you saying you’ll... _take care of it_?”

Narrowed green eyes. The temperature in the room rises, hotter and hotter. “Maybe I am.”

She laughs. High-pitched and girly, nothing like the hissing glee that left her while she chased the replica. Clearly fake, like every other ‘emotion’ displayed here. The air grows heavy. Full of buzzy static. A building thunderstorm.

“Oh, that sounds _just great!_ ”

“I aim to please,” Axel says dryly. He waves a hand, to open up a Corridor that he walks into. Armed with cards of his own, no doubt. 

That done...Larxene turns to her partner in crime. Holds out an expectant hand. 

Marluxia smiles. Holds up a single blue card. 

“Are you ready, Larxene?”

She smiles back. Daintily accepts the card. “When am I not?”

* * *

Now that my panic’s died a bit...I take a moment to examine our hideaway. White, of course, like everything else here. 

Dim, like the lights haven’t been turned on for a while. And dusty, like the room hasn’t been used at all for ten years or so. Clearly out of the way, a safe hiding place. I mean, I only found my way here by brute-forcing my way in and panicking. 

No one’s going to find us with _reason_ guiding their actions. On their side. 

Doesn’t mean it’s totally _safe_ , but it’s _safer_ compared to where we used to be. But then, pretty much anywhere would be safer than where we used to be, for Namine and I. 

“What now?” I wonder out loud. 

“...I need to fix Sora’s memories.” Firm. Solid. The first such statement she’s made, between the two of us. 

Whoa. So soon? I thought that idea didn’t come up until...Axel lets her run away from Marluxia and Larxene. Like I helped with earlier. Okay. Maybe in canon she just sat on the idea until she could act on it. Once she realized that she messed up. 

That makes sense. As much as any of Kingdom Hearts can make sense. 

“All right,” I agree. I tap at my chin in thought. “How do we do that, then?”

Never got any details on how Namine does her memory magic...oooh, now’s my chance!

I scoot closer to her, hands pushing against the ground, on my knees. My hands pat my thighs. “How does your magic work, for changing memories?”

Her eyes widen, apparently surprised that I’m so excited about this entire memory magic. Which is understandable, considering my earlier response that landed us both down here.

“I...need my sketchbook,” she murmurs, looking down at her hands. I look down too. They’re pale. Small. Soft. “I draw in my sketchbook to give shape to new memories.”

The sketchbook, huh. That makes sense. Whenever Sora started talking about new memories, the game had shown her drawing (according to the cutscenes I watched). 

Hm. That sketchbook we...left upstairs. Frick. I’m going to have to do something about that, aren’t I? But later. First, questions. Then, plan. 

“Oh...what happens if _someone else_ draws in your sketchbook? What then?”

“...I don’t know.”

I clap my hands together, grinning. Namine flinches, just a bit, at the sudden loud sound. “I wanna try it, when we get your sketchbook.”

“Why?” Blue eyes, focused like lasers on my own. 

Hm? I blink at her.

Namine shakes her head. “Why are you so interested in this? I...would have rewritten your memories, if you hadn’t run away.”

“But you didn’t, because I did run. With you,” I point out. So, not a problem, right?

“I can still hurt you.”

Um. Okay? “But you won’t, right? You don’t want to.”

She flinches at that. Really violent motion this time. Hm? I tilt my head. Her own face lowers back down in response. Her next words I have to strain to hear. 

“...they never want to hurt me. But they do. I could hurt you.”

I narrow my eyes. Never want to hurt her? Oh, I _know_ what that means. Those _bastards._

“They were _lying_ ,” I pronounce solemnly, offering my hand to her. “When they said that, they only wanted to make you feel bad for them hurting you, instead of them feeling bad.”

I’m careful to look at her with a smile on my face. Even though I don’t really feel like smiling, after that revelation. 

“I trust you.”

Namine lifts her head up again, her bright blue eyes catching my smile and...bursts into tears.

“Wait, what.” I wave my hands, biting at my lip. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

What did I do? Um. Uh. I lower my hands, looking them over, as Namine cries louder. 

Scoot even closer than before, until our knees are touching. Rubbing against each other. Lean forward, wrap my arms around her. 

The crying...stops, as she registers what I’m doing. 

A hug. 

I whisper into her shoulder, readjusting my hug the best I can. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ll protect you.”

Something deep in my chest purrs, a rumble like a happy dragon. Clicking into place at my promise. 

(Good. Good.)

* * *

Vexen erupts into the room from his Dark Corridor, a flurry of loud outrage and excitement like always. Sometimes, Zexion considers the idea that maybe the wrong person got Fire as their element in Organization XIII, in light of the way Vexen often explodes. If not for the frost covering his face like a second skin. 

“Those fools lost my replica!”

Hm. How... _interesting._ Of course that would be what set Vexen off, this time. He’s been obsessed with the replica ever since it had fallen out of its tube. The broken, strange replica. Far too curious, far too ignorant, watching everything with its wide blue eyes like that would give it any answers about the world it found itself in. 

Not like Riku at all, what Zexion observed of him. No, more like...

(His Somebody.)

No. He won’t go there. 

Reminds him of...younger days. Days he no longer wants to remember. 

“Are you sure you even want it back, Vexen?” Zexion inquires. “It’s clearly damaged, even before you brought it to them. Suffering from a glitch in its programming.”

“He is still _mine_!” the Nobody hisses in response, whirling around. The air rapidly grows colder, until all three in the room can see the vapor of their breaths, not just Vexen. 

“Vexen.” Lexaeus’ deep voice rumbles. “Control yourself.”

Vexen _hisses_ again, but the cold lets up. Slightly. 

“I’ll be in the lab.” He whirls around, as dramatic as always, Dark Corridor opening up to meet him. 

Once he’s gone...

Zexion lets out a quite huff of breath. “Tracking his replica, of course. The _thing_ is broken. Why does he want it back? To repair it?”

“He has spent much effort and time on it,” Lexaeus replies. “It would be unexpected if he did give up on it.”

“Of course.” His fingers tap against his chin. Recalling the last time he saw the replica, right where it shouldn’t have been, on the lab floor. Barely out of a Dark Corridor and then whisked away again, as quickly as it had appeared in the first place. 

That fear, the way that replica wrapped itself around Namine as it looked up at him...

(“No! Don’t touch him!”)

Why is he thinking of _that_ night? Almost ten years ago...

Useless. 

“Why did you help the replica?” Zexion inquires, abruptly, of his companion. The replica had quite clearly been clueless about what to do with a potion, opening the bottle up as if to sniff at it like some common animal. 

And Lexaeus had helped it. 

(It had _waved_ at him.)

“A reminder,” is the simple reply he gets, “Of the past.”

Of course Lexaeus had seen what he saw, in Vexen’s creation. A reflection of the past that had been inadvertently recreated by Vexen’s machinations. 

Zexion closes his eyes. Both natural and unnatural. 

“Perhaps Vexen should stop trying to chase the past, then.”


	4. Rename

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Listen! In which our Hero gains food, a name, and a Navi, in that order. (Finally) Also, there's a Sith encounter somewhere in there.

There are many floors of basement. Enough of them to hide a body in, where it’ll never be found. Certainly enough to hide two scared kids from those searching for them. 

Especially in this room I found entirely by chance. Only one door, in and out, low light and safe. Well, two doors. But the second door doesn’t seem to lead out, only deeper in the castle. Somewhere I do not want to be right now. 

And there’s a nice orb thing, that I’m pretty we can use to keep track of everyone else in the building. If only I knew how to use it...maybe Naminé does. But besides that...

I would be content to remain here forever. Hiding until the Organization members die or disappear back to their own castle.

(Oh, the World That Never Was...that would be a _cool_ place to see.)

But...

I can’t do that. 

I have Responsibilities. Mostly involving Naminé. I broke her out, it’s my responsibility to make sure she’s safe. Happier. 

Besides, wasn’t Riku Replica all about protecting Naminé? I said I would do the best I could in the guy’s place, didn’t I? So I will. Least I can do. 

Naminé’s got herself a nice chair to sit in now, one I dug up from a far corner. She sits on the floor instead, using the chair as a nice spot to lean up against. 

I guess the floor is comfortable. Who knew?

Doesn’t seem that way to me...I rub at my poor backside. My itchy, _cold_ backside. Why does everything about Castle Oblivion have to suck so much?

Stupid. Great to visit, awful to stay. 

...why can’t we just leave again? I mean, I can teleport and all and Naminé could come with me. 

I hum, tapping my fingers against floor. No....I can’t do that. We need to fix Sora and we can’t do that outside of Castle Oblivion. Also, I’m not sure how to teleport to different worlds yet. It’s probably different than blipping around the castle. 

There was that entire In-Between place in Kingdom Hearts 2, after all...

“Hey, Naminé?” I call out. “Can we talk?”

“...yes.” Very quiet. But still a yes. Not a very willing yes..? Agh. I won’t take long, I promise myself. Need some ground rules here, some facts talked out between the two of us. 

Like... _me_. Like how my body is Riku’s, but I’m...not. 

“I’m a girl, by the way.” I just get into it. No use stalling on this. 

Naminé looks at me closely. “But you look like Riku,” she says. Clearly confused.

“Yeah, but I’m not. Anymore than you’re...uh, your Somebody.”

She flinches at that. I inwardly grimace. I wasn’t planning to _hurt her feelings,_ ugh. 

“I thought hearts matched their bodies?” A lilting upward of question, at the end of that statement. So Naminé’s not saying it’s impossible. Good. 

I shake my head. “Not all the time. Vexen...made me look like Riku, because he wanted Riku. But...” I gesture to myself, my whole body. “I’m not. I’m...me.”

Me with no name. I have _got_ to figure that out. 

“So you’re a girl?”

“Yeah.”

“Not a boy like Riku, because you’re not Riku?”

“Yeah.”

Naminé shuffles her feet. “All right,” she agrees. 

I heave out a sigh, leaning back. Okay. That was easy. Easier than I thought it would be...but then Naminé doesn’t really have layers of societal expectation weighing her down, she’s so new. 

At that moment, my stomach chooses to _growl_. Super loudly. 

I blush, heat flooding my cheeks. Figures that Vexen would choose to implement that biological function. Both of them. That’s awkward. 

Naminé nearly jumps out of her skin. “What was that?” she says, staring at me wildly. 

My hands pat my stomach as I sheepishly look over at her. “You know how humans need to eat and stuff? Yeah, that’s the sound stomachs make when they’re hungry.”

 _Starving._ Argh.

“Do you know where I can get some food?”

“Food?”

Alright. That’s an answer right there. Not one I really wanted, but an answer.

...Is there food anywhere in Castle Oblivion? I mean, in the manga, there were so many instances of Organization members eating...which I’m not sure translates to real life, for obvious reasons. 

“Do you think there’s a kitchen around here? Somewhere else with food? Maybe I should go looking for one.”

“...I can try,” Naminé whispers. 

Wait, what? “What do you mean by try?” 

“Make a room card for it.”

I put my hands, waving them. “Whoa, whoa. You mean you can make those blue memory cards, for floors?”

Which makes sense, the more I think about it. I mean, the cards are made from Sora’s memories, and Naminé messes with his memories. Which could mean her making those cards everyone’s always throwing around in Chain of Memories.

Huh.

“But it doesn’t _make_ food, right? That’s impossible.” One of the five rules in Harry Potter, if I recall correctly, can’t make food out of nothing. 

“If there’s food, I can make a card that might find it.”

I nod. “Alright. Go for it, then.” My fingers dig into my belt, pulling out a room card. Offering it to her. 

She blinks at me. “...you’re going to let me try?”

... _Let_ her try. It is getting _really_ difficult to fight my homicidal urges, on her behalf. 

I shrug. “Sure. Doesn’t hurt to try. I can’t make any cards like that and if you think you can, go for it.”

Naminé’s fingers carefully pluck the card from my grip. 

Her forehead furrows up and she closes her big eyes in concentration. Makes her look...older. Less young. Less of a child. 

My fingers itch. I hate this place so much. Should probably stab a Nobody or two, make me feel better. (But not yet. And not Naminé.)

A flash of blue light. Before my eyes, the red room card I had gifted to her looks different. Larger. A different color, too. 

It’s a light blue card, with a red heart on its front. Like the Heartless symbol, almost. I read the label, its name, along the bottom. 

Key to Revenge? That doesn’t sound good. 

“How does revenge lead me to food?” I wonder, lifting the card up to the light. 

“...Sorry.” Naminé lowers her head. Hunched up in a parody of a bow once again. A familiar pose for her. One that never ceases to hurt my heart, whenever I see it. 

(I know what _that_ means.) 

“No, no!” I wave a hand, smiling at her. Positive reinforcement, that’s the way to go here. “It’s fine! I can try it out, no problem!”

“If you’re sure...”

“Yep.” I hold up one of my extra room cards. “But I’ll go out a little further first.”

Don’t want to accidentally open up the door to an enemy directly to our hide-out. Let’s try it from a memory room first. 

Safer that way, less direct hazard. 

“I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

* * *

It’s Monstro again. Which is fine. Really. Smells like rot and puke and bad fish, but fine. Squishy and lumpy and makes all kinds of strange noises as my boots sink down into the fake flesh, but fine. Heartless scattered everything, itching for new prey to sink their claws into...but fine.

Totally fine.

“At least no one will _want_ to be here,” I mutter, pulling my boots free of yet another sticky bump. Carefully hide behind some boxes to avoid the gaze of some Big Bois. 

“Less likely to run into people that way.”

Ooh, more Heartless, heading right around the corner! I leap off the edge of some stomach lining to avoid them, sloshing about in the acids to get to the doorway on the far side. 

Nothing wrong with fighting Heartless, of course. I _do_ need to get stronger, after all, and fighting Heartless is a good way of doing that. But right now, I want to find this food that apparently hides behind the “Key to Revenge.” Find it, bring it back to me and Naminé’s hideout, check on Naminé, and then go Heartless hunting. _Grinding_. And room cards!

Flawless plan. Simple, super simple, so it’s less likely to go wrong. Not that simpleness will guarantee that it won’t...but better odds, am I right?

A doorway...right there. 

Excellent. Time to test my key-card. To _Revenge._

A flash of light and the door opens. 

And on the other side...

Huh. This is...unexpected.

The room is full of _stuff._ Not empty like pretty much everywhere else in Castle Oblivion. Clothes, wires, and so may strange things beyond my naming. And books! Can’t forget the books. I eye them, noting them all for later. I’ll need those...

But right now...the _best_ thing here. 

The most important: _food._ Travel bags of it, with some cans, scattered across the table. Not a whole ton but enough that if I take some, it shouldn’t be missed. Too much. 

Ooo. Tuna! My fingers scrabble at the can, only to be thwarted by the miracle that is industrial canning. 

“Stupid...can...”

Can’t open it, it’s a metal can sealed shut. And who cans stuff around here? I mean, frankly speaking, that’s actually a pretty easy question to answer, if one considers that all worlds that ever were and will be could possibly exist in the mass crossover that is Kingdom Hearts. 

Never mind. Question retracted. 

Not that really helps me with opening the can in the first place. I need a _knife_. A sharp thing, to serve as a can opener. 

I _want in!_ And like magic (it is magic), the gloves of my Dark Suit respond. The tip of those gloves lengthen, sharpen. 

Coool. _Claws._

“Awesome.” I grin, flicking the little sharp points in and out as I curl and straighten my fingers. I’ve always been a Wolverine fan...and claws are super useful. Like the punctured can I’m now holding proves. 

Smiling to myself, I push aside some of bags in the way to put my can down. Only to pause. 

There’s a can opener, right under where the bags had been. 

It’s pretty funky shaped, with bright green handles, but I’m pretty sure it’s a can opener. Sitting right there. On the table. Now clear of the stuff that had been on top of it. 

...Seriously. _Seriously._

“At least I’ve got claws now,” I tell the can opener. “Claws are so much _cooler_.”

The can-opener, of course, doesn’t answer. I huff and return to my work.

Get food for Naminé, that’s important since I don’t think the Organization fed her at all. I survey my selection of food. I don’t know what she likes, and since she’s never eaten before (I think), I don’t think she knows either. 

“A little of everything then.” So it’s decided. Now...where to put it? Not like my Dark Suit has any pockets... 

“Guess I’ll just carry what I can in my arms.”

But first...tuna! Spent so much time opening it, after all. I fork (finger?) the fish into my mouth. It’s cold, very fishy, and not really the best thing to be eaten on its own. _Ambrosia._

Yet I might be moaning slightly as food hits my stomach. Don’t judge me, okay?

“Numnumnum.” I consider the can. Do I lick it clean? No. I might cut my tongue on the sharp edge of the can lid I tore apart to get inside. No licking. 

Besides, fish juice isn’t very filling. 

The other food...I look through, a bit more carefully than I did the first time. There are, of course, more cans of fish. Not all tuna. 

Dried fruits, that look like raisins. Ew. Except maybe the apricot looking ones? Nice. 

Nuts...better. But is Riku allergic? I mean, that might be something I have to worry about now...weird as that realization is. 

Ah, granola bars. I hate them, but they may be the only food that stands between me and the utter starvation I suffer from after each and every teleport. 

Stick a whole bunch in my belt. For later. 

Grab little travel bags of everything. For later. 

And before I forget...I glance around. At the books scattered across the floor, all of them very old looking. Aged. 

“But...book.” I have food, but I want some books too...

I huff, puffing out my cheeks. What do I do now? Just one book, maybe? I nod. Yeah, just one book. 

Which book? There are so many...

My eyes catch on one with the title of _Basic Spell Primer for the Apprentice._ Ah. That one. I want to learn magic, that looks like a good place to start. 

Probably super dry and awful, like most textbooks are. But I’m pretty good at getting through textbooks. So it’s decided. Mine. And it’s small too, the size of both of my hands shoved together. Riku hands, not...nevermind. 

My foot nudges the book over onto its end, standing lengthwise, just high enough for me to grab it without too much trouble. 

Without dropping any of my food, at least. That would be bad. 

Now that’s done...I look over the room one last time. Books on the floor, food and stupid can-opener on table. Everything looks pretty similar to the way it looked when I first walked in here. Messy and chaotic, whoever walked in here before me, just dumping stuff all over the place. Red cloth bandages scattered about and..I squint. Is that belt, a random belt on the ground? Okay...

(Red and belts and _revenge_...why does that sound familiar?)

And there’s that door on the far end...I eye it, before shaking my head. I’ll explore there another time. Even though it is awful tempting, with that blueish light, computer-screen light almost, gleaming out from underneath the door crack...where could it lead?

Nah. Another day. 

I need to get back to Naminé right now. Have some snacks. 

And figure out why the key-card to this place is called Key to Revenge. This place does not seem very revenge-y. 

Okay. Open door by putting hand right up to it, my hand that’s currently attached to an arm pinning food bags to my chest. Open quietly. Good. 

Then...port! Right back to Naminé!

Good. 

* * *

Starving, of course, after hitting our hide-out. 

I happily pop out a granola bar and start chewing on it. Tastes...well, okay, but that’s not the important part here. Takes the edge off the hunger pangs, like it’s all in my head.

Which it probably is. I mean, I don’t really know how this Darkness stuff works? And Vexen was not super great at explaining?

...I’m going to have to figure this out all on _my own_ , aren’t I?

Well, I’ve got a magic spell book now, so that should help out. 

“Naminé! I’m back! And food!”

I sit down, dumping the burden in my arms all over the floor. Naminé _stares_. Like she’s completely shocked that I manage to find food in the first place. That I’m offering it to her, to share. 

Oh, ye of little faith. And hope. And happiness. Agh.

...yeah, that joke went downhill pretty fast. Now I feel bad. It’s not like she’s had many people to trust, here.

I start pointing out food. 

“Now, these ones right taste like apricots, which are pretty good. And you might wanna try a granola bar or two, first, those go pretty easy on the stomach...”

“Why?” Naminé interrupts me. Her eyes are painfully earnest. Why can I read her so easily? I’m usually _awful_ at reading people’s faces, realizing what they might be feeling. 

Maybe replica brains are different?

Questions for another day, can’t drift off with Naminé in front of me like this. 

“Why are you...sharing?”  
“Because I thought you might be hungry too.”

She carefully pushes at the food bags. Not picking anything up, just touching. “Nobodies don’t need to eat. We’re not people.”

“Oh?” I frown. “Well, you can still try some. I got plenty!”

Naminé looks like she’s about to cry. Again. 

Frick. I need to move topics, I’m not ready for Naminé tears again! There’s gotta be something...wait. I’m holding something else, squarish, small, with paper...

Oh yeah, the book! I hold it out to her. “Look what I found!”

Silence. Hm. 

“You can read, right?” I ask, a little worried. I don’t want to be rude, but how much _do_ Nobodies that don’t recall “their” pasts know of things like reading and writing? Naminé can draw but that’s not quite the same thing...

“I can.” She peers over at the book curiously. “What’s that for?”

I present it to her proudly. “It’s about magic and stuff! I grabbed it so we could figure out spells!”

“...oh.” Hm? What’s that look for?

I lower the book onto the floor carefully. Give her my full attention. Easier now that I’m not juggling so much stuff in my arms. 

“You took a while. To get back. I thought that...” Her eyes lower. Afraid to speak anymore. 

“Well, I’m back here now, aren’t I?” I scratch my head and add, “Sorry I took so long.”

Really, I _am_ sorry. Worrying all the time is the _worst_ and I know that from some bitter experience. Could I lessen her worry somehow?

“Too bad we don’t have phones or something. To keep track of each other.” I hum, tapping at my chin. The problem that is the root of all true of Kingdom Hearts troubles: lack of a solid across world communication method. 

Be easier to keep Naminé safe if I knew she was in trouble right away. Or for her to worry less about me if she could keep track of what I was doing all the time. 

“Or telepathy! That’s a thing, right? Talking mind-to-mind and stuff.”

“Mind-to-mind...” Naminé repeats. Her eyes slide over to meet mine. Nervous, but thoughtful. “What about...heart-to-heart?” she offers, a little hesitant.

“Hmmm.” Well, for what I know about Kingdom Hearts Land...actually, I’m not sure if that’s a canon thing. Definitely a fanon thing, that hearts could talk to each easily like a telepath could in sci-fi, since everything in Kingdom Hearts is all about the connections between hearts. 

But wait. There was that weird thing, at the start of KH2, where Roxas’ heart reached out and actually talked to Kairi’s. Which happened with Naminé’s involvement. So I guess that is a thing, really. Heart-to-heart.

Huh. Pretty handy, that. A lot less people would get separated from each other in Kingdom Hearts Land that if it was a more wide-spread ability, that’s for sure. 

I nod. “Alright. How do we do it?”

Naminé doesn’t _gape_ at me, but her long stare is pretty close to that degree of shock. I blink and tilt my head. “Hm?”

“You would...let me touch your heart? After...how we got here?” Naminé looks down at her hands, her fingers rubbing against each other. 

What is sh- oh, right. The entire “terrified out of my wits that she would erase my existence” situation that ended with both of us here. 

I shake my head. “Weren’t you listening? I said that I _trust_ you. You won’t erase me, not without anyone forcing you to,” I say confidently. It’s the _Organization_ I blame. Not her. Never her. Even when I disliked her character, I never thought it was her fault, what happened to Riku Replica. 

“...You’re right.” Her shoulders rise up, straighten. Confident in a way I’ve never noticed from her before. Not really. 

“Just be careful, okay?” I add, suddenly nervous. Prickles itching their way down my spine. “I don’t want to get too bad of a headache. Or for you to get hurt.”

She pauses at that, blue eyes looking me over like she’s never seen me before. 

“...You’ll need to be sitting,” is the only thing Naminé says. 

I incline my head. “Alright.” I settle down on the floor, right in front of her, criss-cross apple-sauce style. “Now, how are we going to be doing this? How are you trying to connect our hearts for a chat or two?”

“Um, all memories are connected to each other. Like a long chain,” Naminé starts to explain. She gestures a small gap between her hands, moving them to a longer one. Making a chain shape, or a link shape, with her hands, almost. “Hearts also connect to each other using those chains of memory.”

All right. That seems simple enough. And hey, title drop! I nod, to show that I’m both understanding and paying attention. 

“So lots of shared experiences can make longer chains, right? Ones that spread out further.”

“Yes. That’s right. We haven’t spent very long together, so I can’t make a very long chain that way...” She looks away, like she’s ashamed. “Not without making you new memories.”

Hm. That also makes sense. Naminé was able to tie canon Riku Replica to her by making many fake experiences to forge a super long chain with, so they could be connected across the entire Castle. Strengthening his devotion to her. That must be what happened. 

If I’m getting this correctly, that is. 

“So if that’s not possible, there’s gotta be another way, right?” I lean forward, my hands flat against the cold ground. At least they’re gloved. “There are hearts that are connected without ever knowing each other, right? I mean, people don’t remember _everyone_ they run into, or sometimes where their greatest influences come from.”

“...I don’t know very much about the other ways hearts connect. Only a little about memories. Sorry.” She bites at her lip. 

I wave a hand dismissively. “Don’t be sorry! I mean, you’re the only one you know of that has these powers, right? Makes sense you’re still figuring them out as you go.”

“It does?” Whoa, those are some serious _doe eyes_ there. Watery and hopeful. 

“Yeah, I’m still figuring out how to fight better.” I scratch at the back of my head, smiling a little sheepishly. “Not super good yet...”

“I bet you’re very good!” 

I stare, just a bit, in surprise, at Naminé’s unexpected support. She looks away yet again, unable to meet my eyes. A blush brushes at her cheek, as bright as the sun against her pale skin. 

It’s...cute. A happier, more lively look on her, than constant fear. 

(She deserves better than this.)

“...Thanks. But I’ll get better.” I look down at my hands. My gloved hands that are not really mine, not at all. I have to get better. Or else bad things will happen to us. 

Now, back to the subject at hand. 

“How about a few _strong_ memories? Some memories are clearer than others, right? Ones with a lot of emotions?”

Naminé bites at her lip again. “That might work...I can try it, at least. Do you...think you have ones strong enough?” she asks, hesitant. 

My thoughts go back, to enormous roller coasters of fear and the overwhelming desire to _protect_ , that fill all of the memories I share with Naminé. Very emotional. Clear. Recent. _Real_. If those aren’t strong memories, than I don’t know what would be. 

“Yeah. They should be enough.”

“Okay. I’ll try it then. If you’re...okay with it?” 

“Yeah. Do I need to move again, or am I good here?” Fingers tap against the floor. 

“Stay there. I’ll move.” She rises to her feet, only to take a few steps to sit down behind me. Her fingers hover over shoulders.

“Go ahead,” I say, before she asks. 

Her fingers settles and the next I know is a buzz in my chest. A humming of a song that I don’t know the words to. But I feel like I should. 

Naminé going through my memories, the chains of my heart, doesn’t hurt. 

Not at all. 

Tickles, a bit. The feeling of someone running their fingers against the sole of my foot. Itchy tickling, feels funny and slightly uncomfortable. 

Tugs on my heart. Gentle, soft, but still tugs.

“Are you okay?”

I look up at her face, from her lap. When did I put my head in her lap? No, scratch that, when did I stop sitting upright?

...Huh. Oh well, can’t be that important, can it?

“Yeah. Just fine. Thanks.”

Naminé blushes, the pink flush in her cheeks lighting her up like a firework. “I’ll be very careful,” she promises, leaning over me. Her fingers wrap into my hair, touching my scalp. Feels...nice, that gentle touch. Like a hug, for my head. 

I smile. “Of course you will.”

The tugging becomes rougher. Like pulling at my hair from the roots. I bite my lip to fight back the cry building in my throat. 

_Ouch_. 

Flash of light and color. Memories.

_“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” “Oh yeah, it’s-” “My name is-” “Call me-”_

Hurts. Aches, a hole in my heart, like the day I lost-

Who did I lose?

I...I can’t remember. 

I’ve lost so much. And I have a feeling that I have more to lose. But not yet. Not today.

One memory bobs up, from the mess. 

_“You’ve would been Rose. After your grandmother.”_

Rose. That’s a name. That would have been my name. 

“I’m done.”

I open my eyes, to see blue eyes anxiously peering into my face. When did I close them?

“...Are you okay? I got it all set up now.” She smiles. “They were strong enough, like you said.” Is she...humming? Why is she humming? Seems happy, now that I’m responding again, but it’s more than that...

“Never better.” Slowly, I push myself up into sitting position. To consider my name, a name that could have been mine, if I cannot recall the original. 

_Rose._ I close my eyes, picturing a world where that could have been my name. Can’t remember such a world, that memory’s buried now, somewhere I cannot reach without Naminé’s help. 

“Rose,” I taste the word. The name. “Rose.”

Maybe once...but that name no longer fits quite right. Belonged to a different body, a different person that never dreamed of where I am now. 

Besides...that rose _stink_ , from Marluxia, it’s tainted now. Not quite what I want to be thinking of, every time someone says my name. 

No, that’s not my name. Not for this now, this when.

But something close, just a step off...

A misfit, a mimic, that’s me now. I’m not supposed to be _here_ , yet here I am. A trick, on the Organization, serious enough to ruin their plotting. Is there a word for that, just right and perfect? A reminder, a little laugh to be had at the world. 

“Ruse.”

Open my eyes, look over at Naminé. Who’s watching me. Waiting. I smile, big and wide. 

“Ruse. That’s my name. I’m Ruse!”

“Nice to meet you, Ruse,” is Naminé’s reply. She smiles too, not quite as wide as my own, but good enough. Clear enough for me to see on her face.

“Thanks, Naminé. For the help.”

She glances away. Fidgets. “You’re...welcome.”

Leaning forward, I clap my hands together. Gets me a bit of a jump out of Naminé. “Now, we should test this heart-to-heart thing out.”

* * *

“Testing, testing. One, two, three, four. Can you hear me?”

*Ruse, you know you don’t have to do that.* A humming voice in my heart, almost like Naminé’s whispering right into my ear, tickling me with her long hair. The connection itself, if that’s what I’m feeling, feels like warmth in my chest. That heats up the longer Naminé speaks to me using it. 

“Yeah, but it’s fun to, you know?” I sniff at the air, wrinkling my nose. Not as bad as Monstro, but nothing’s as bad as Monstro. Not totally great, either. 

Still smells of fish and sea, but more like the latter than the former. Salt hanging in the air...wood under my feet and night sky far above. A sailing ship.

“Second star to the right, huh? That’s how it goes.” My eyes go up the center mast, to the black flag with its white skull grinning down at me. 

Hello, Neverland. Another one of the memories shared between Riku _and_ Sora, I’m pretty sure. Didn’t think there was a night sky, in the original scene of the memory but...

Memories are weird. Heard something once, about how scent’s the sense most closely tied with memory. If that’s the case, no wonder every one of these memory rooms smells like something different, instead of the cleanness of Castle Oblivion. Except when fighting Heartless, of course. 

Which reminds me. Granola bar time! Another snack, another day. And my claws make it _really_ easy to get through the metallic wrapper. 

*You should leave that room now.* Naminé tells me, sounding _really_ stressed all of a sudden.

I blink. “Kay,” I agree, wandering off to the door and activating it. Still munching on my way too dry granola bar. Another memory room, another day. Hm. Wonder what that’s all about...

Lots of pirate-y Heartless around here. Decent enough to practice my swordplay, while I shuffle through my cards. Practice, until I pick a card to do some _real_ damage with. 

“Yo-ho, yo-ho, a pirate’s life for me...” I hum. Wrong world for that song, but it’s the only pirate song I know. And every single verse, at that. 

*That’s a lot of terrible things pirates do, in that song.*

“Yeah, that’s right. _Real_ pirates are usually not the best of people to be around, that’s for sure,” I agree, scaling up a pile of cargo. Right up against a ladder. 

In the game, this would be a safe spot to rest. Out of any common enemy’s reach. But this isn’t a game, and Shadow Heartless can crawl around in all three dimensions, so it only serves as a decent look-out point. 

As long as I’m careful to let nothing sneak up on me. 

*Then why does Sora want to be a pirate?*

Oh, she would know that, from shuffling through his memories. I imagine that wants, dreams, all sorts of feelings would pop up while doing that.

“Well, pirates are kinda romanticised.” I peer down my box tower, at the Heartless fiddling around at its base. Hm, which one should I go for...?

“Which means people make up stories about pirates that make pirates sound a lot better than they actually are. Like heroes, almost.”

*Oh, I see. So Sora wants to be a story pirate, not a real one?* She sounds relieved by that revelation. 

“Yep.” Ah, another pirate one, off to the side. Poking at some treasure chest. I squint down, raising Soul Eater to point at it. Right...there!

I jump. Slice down and _whomp_! 

Another familiar flash of entering a battle zone. Surrounded by Shadows and Pirates. I grin. Easy enough, with all the practice I’m getting under my belt. Er, belts?

Line up my cards just right, dodge some claw-attacks, catch the slicing swords with my own blade...all too easy.

I don’t even have to use a sleight. Or any of my Darkness. Not that I really know _how_ to use my Darkness, other than with teleporting and my Dark Suit...

 _Super_ easy. In and out, three seconds flat. To clear the room entirely only takes a minute or two, tops. 

I huff, letting Soul Eater vanish into the ether. “Lame...”

*What’s the problem? You didn’t get hurt at all, fighting.*

“And that’s the problem.”

*?* An impression of curiosity and questioning. I hum, nibble at the inside of my cheek, as I determine the best way to answer her. 

Now, don’t get me wrong. It’s absolutely _great_ that I can take down so many Heartless with not even a scratch. Meant good things for the future ahead. 

But...Heartless were dumb creatures. The only strategy they had a grasp on was “swarming in superior numbers” one. They couldn’t think, couldn’t calculate how to cut me off like I did to them. If they did spells, it was usually only one or the other, as well as fairly easy to dodge. Decent enough to serve as practice for someone who had never fought with a sword before in her _life_ , needed to get the basics down. 

But...

My _real_ enemies weren’t Heartless. My real enemies, right now, wore black coats and could _think_ . Plan. No AIs here, easy to plan for and track the patterns of, but actual _people._ People that could end up killing me. 

Unlike in the actual video games, I did not have the luxury of fighting the “bosses” over and over again. If I lost, it was a complete game over, no take-backs. I would be _dead._ Super dead. 

If I fought one, then I needed to win the first time. 

Which, frankly speaking, was the exact opposite of my own gaming strategy. My normal way of doing things was to go in there, get my butt kicked as I figured out the Boss AI patterns and then went back in later to fight it for “real.” Which...won’t work for me now. For obvious reasons. 

Not that I’m _intending_ to defeat any Organization members. I’m no hero, not like Sora or Riku. No, all I want to do is survive long enough to be able to make a run for it. 

“The Organization...” I start.

*...*

Heavy silence on the metaphorical line. The heavy silence of someone listening, hanging on to every word leaving my mouth.

Well, better not screw it up, then. 

“They’re still here and I’ve avoided them so far...but that won’t last forever. I need to fight something tougher, to practice. So I won’t get smashed into the ground, by any Organization member I run into.”

Hope that explains my reasoning well enough. 

*Ruse...how are you going to do that?*

“Well, I guess I’ll figure it out somehow.” I glance around at the fake wooden walls, at the door up ahead. “There’s gotta be something like that in Castle Oblivion, am I right?”

*Go through that door. Now.* A sense of urgency, to the words. 

“Alright,” I agree. Through the door it is. 

At this point, I _think_ I know why she keeps telling me to leave rooms. Pretty sure she’s tracking Organization members for me, so they won’t catch me. Really helpful. 

“Hey, you’re like my...Navi-me. Ha.”

*Nave-me?*

“No, Navi-me,” I correct her, looking around Heartless-filled room I’m now in. All sleeping ones. “Navi is short for navigator, like you’re doing for me, and it’s a play on your own name.”

*Like a nickname?*

I shrug, tilting my free hand back and forth. “Kinda? Yeah, that works.”

Hm. Look around the room again. Still asleep, the Heartless here. No challenge at all. And I’m not stupid, I’m not going to stick around waiting for a Nobody to find me.

But...I need to get stronger. Better. 

Maybe I can do what Naminé did, with the Key to Revenge...

“Hey, Castle Oblivion? Mind giving me a way to get stronger?”

*What are you doing?*

“Hm. Just asking the place for a favor...” I look through my room cards. Nothing. Looks all the same as before. Hm. Well, I didn’t _really_ think that would work. 

  
But somewhere else, at a different door, there's proof that the castle is _listening_. As weird as that seems. 

The door transforms the card, once I feed it enough room cards. And gives me...

“The Key to Power...huh. How ‘bout that?”

Hold the card up to the light, where little there is to be found under these fake stars. 

An upside down grey heart, with points coming off of it that make it like a cross.The Nobody symbol, of the Organization. 

Uhhh. Suddenly I’m less sure about this being a good idea. 

But I need that power, that strength. I can’t rely on luck forever. “You going to give me power, card?” I huff at it. “Let’s try this out.”

*Ruse, what are you looking at?*

“A card. A key card like the Revenge one,” I explain, tucking the Key to Power away in my belt, next to my own deck. 

*Be careful testing it out. We don’t know very much about the Revenge room and that might be the same for this Power room.*

Which, point. 

Good advice? Yeah. Am I still going to try my new card out, despite the ominous markings on it? Yeah. 

Oh look! There’s even a convenient doorway nearby for my test run! Who could have guessed?

“Okay, I’m going for it.”

*What?*

“Door time!” I say brightly, marching to the door in question and presenting the Key to Power to it. Which the door accepts, of course, with a bright blinding light. 

*Wait, Ruse-!*

Too late.

* * *

  
  


Naminé is not sure what to make of Ruse. 

Everyone else in her short existence so far has been much easier to understand in comparison to Ruse. 

Maybe it is because Ruse is a replica and replicas are fake beings, just as fake as Nobodies are. But fake in a different way, in that they _can_ be real. 

At least, that is what the loud blond Nobody named Vexen had said. Very loudly. That Ruse could be better than _Riku_ , a better copy of him. 

Now, what Naminé knows of Riku is only through Sora’s memories. She wasn’t quite sure if that’s true, if that replica could be as good as _that._

At least, that’s what she thought at first. 

Now she knows better. Knows Ruse. Ruse, whose brilliant heart Vexen had ignored, set on making his replica look like Riku instead of the girl Ruse _really_ is. Ruse, who has too many memories for someone who has existed for as short of time as she has. 

_Ruse._

Naminé bites at her lip. She wish she had her pencils, her sketchbook. Anything to distract herself from whatever trouble Ruse had gotten herself into. 

Ruse is _bright_. Not bright like Sora, who is a sun she can barely look at, but of the stars that Naminé knew only through sweet memory. Stars that all important promises were made under, according to Sora. Ruse, always having a smile to offer to her, even with what Naminé had nearly done to her...

And food, and books, and letting her connect their hearts...Ruse has done _so much_. 

And she...Naminé can do _nothing_. As she runs into danger. 

Her fingers itch. Her chest is cold, where she placed the root of the connection between her and Ruse. 

And the orb she’s been using to track Ruse, to warn her of Organization members, is blank. Completely blank, when she tries to search for Ruse.

(She’s so _selfish_...chaining heroes to her.)

(Just a selfish Nobody.)

Where is Ruse? Each Ruse leaves, Naminé is _afraid_ that she won’t come back. 

(It would be just what she deserves.)

She breathes. No. If her orb doesn’t work then the others shouldn’t either. The Organization can’t find her. Won’t find her. She has to believe, believe that Ruse will come back. That this disappearance won’t be forever. No, more than that. 

This connection...isn’t enough. Not for her. (So _greedy_.)

She wants to be with Ruse, by her side. Seeing her smile and hear her jokes that she’s always careful to explain in _person._

But...the Organization. It’s _always_ the Organization. But she wants to do more now, more than sketch and draw memories, with a sketchbook that is no longer hers. 

Her eye catches, on the floor, on the book still laying where it had been carefully placed. A book about...spells. Spells like the lighting Larxene used, or Axel’s fire. Marluxia’s thorns. Things for attacking, for fighting. 

_Magic._

_“-so we could figure out spells!_ ”

Learn magic. Together. Ruse shares so much. More than she should. 

Naminé stretches her arm out, to grab at the book Ruse had left behind. The book for _them_. 

Flips it open, her eyes catching on words on the inside of the front cover. 

_Property of Terra_.

Terra. She carefully, gently turns the page, to the first page of words. 

Thank you, Terra, whoever you are. 

She’ll use his book to get better. Become a better person. 

(So Ruse won’t leave her behind.)

* * *

What awaits me on the other side is...not what I was expecting. But then, I don’t know what I was expecting from this Key to Power. 

Looking around, I see I’m standing on a grey stone floor. Dirty, carved crown patterns along its edge long faded. Brown-bronze pipes that snake up from floor to ceiling. Or down, ceiling to floor. 

Feels moist and cold, in the air. Though it shouldn’t. This is within Castle Oblivion, after all. But also not. This memory...is very clear in the way the others are not. Real. 

My head turns to take in every detail. “Is this...Hollow Bastion?”

Huh. 

And...the warmth in my heart is gone. I can’t talk to Naminé. 

“Oh no. That’s going to freak her out.” Frick. It’s already freaking _me_ out. 

This is what I get for wanting more power. Should have listened to my elders, should have learned from Riku’s mistakes, but no-

I gasp. Freezing and buzzing, lightning in my veins. Like static in my brain. Something _walks through me_. A ghost. A black-coated ghost, hood up, that stops to stand right in front of me. Facing me. 

Holy beans. 

It’s an Organization member. 

“Ah, it seems you are special too.” 

I freeze. That _voice_...I would know that sexy deep voice anywhere. Mansex! Wait, no, that’s not quite right...

(You’re just making jokes now, to make yourself better about messing up so badly.)

Shut up, Anxiety. You don’t have to point that out. 

“That name rings familiar.”

I’m not even saying anything. It’s like...I’m listening to a recording. Not a memory reshaped to mess around in, like Naminé’s machinations. No, something that actually happened and remains unchanged. Untouched. 

Until I, like an idiot, went and asked Castle Oblivion for it. 

The figure, the shadow _Xemnas_ , flexes his fingers. Blue magical _lightening_ crackles to life at the motion. 

Even with my impending doom on the horizon, I can’t help the _squeal_ at that. Holy beans, this is so iconic! A total Sith, I’m totally facing a Sith right now!

“You remind me of him.”

Then he raises his hand and _shoots lightning at me._ Something beyond my control, moves me, moves my _body_ , brings out Soul Eater to catch it like Obi Wan catching Dooku’s Sith lightning in Episode II. The attack bounces off my blade towards the ceiling above, bringing some rock. Terrifying, but so _cool._

“It means you are not whole. You are incomplete.”

This stuff Xemnas is saying...he said it to Sora the first time. Talking about Roxas. 

The black figure steadies his stance, staring at me with invisible eyes. 

“Allow me- to test your strength.” The lighting crackles back to life.

Oh frick. Here we go. I steady my stance as well. I don’t remember this fight at all...I know it exists, of course. But it’s been so long...frick.

Orbs thrown out, expanding rapidly. I only barely manage to dodge with a couple of flips. Right into more. 

I shriek at the zapping. “Ow!”

And while I’m staggering back...Xemnas walks calmly up to me and pulls out... _red lightsabers._ Or er, Ethereal Blades. That he uses to stab me lots, while I’m still shocked out of my gourd. _Burns_.

I’m down on the ground, out of commission shortly after that. The fight completely lost. 

“Oooowwww,” I groan. Do I die now? How does this work?

_Will it kill me now?_

Frick. I’m sorry, Naminé. I was stupid. 

But I don’t end up dying, in the end. 

How it works is by the scene fading away, Xemnas pausing mid-step. I sit up, slowly, to a newly white room. Blinking. 

The warmth is back, in my heart, by the way. An uncomfortable hotness like fire. 

*Ruse! What happened?* Naminé, frantic and worried. 

I blink slowly. Dizzy. Why is everything so bright? 

(You are not ready.)

“I’m gonna need to take a rain check on that.”

My fingers run along my belt. Checking for the food I am now out of it. Oh man. 

“And another granola bar.”


	5. Reorient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our Hero makes several assumptions (and mistakes), with Namine-related support, and we see Riku briefly. As well as some others.

As soon as I get back, Naminé _glares_ at me. Her fists bunch up her skirts, a book laying open in her lap.

“Ruse, why did you _do that_?”

I rub at my face, scratch at bit at my cheek. “Uh, I was curious? And do we have any more granola bars?”

“Ruse.” Whoa, that’s a lot of emotion for Naminé. Emotion that isn’t on the edge of fearful panic. 

“...I’m _sorry.”_ And she folds over. Okay, scratch what I just said, this is totally Naminé’s fear flowing over, really _really_ close to actual rage from where I’m standing. Yet not quite there. “I’m sorry,” she cries out again. “I couldn’t help you and you were just _gone..._ ”

Quiet crying, a slight shiver of her shoulders. The sort of quiet that someone does when they’re trying not to be heard. Desperately. 

(I hate I know what that means.)

I chew the inside of my cheek, slowly, steadily. Not hard enough to taste blood, but hard enough to _feel_ it. 

Apologies have always been my bane. Feels like treading over old ground, when I would rather just move on. Forget the pain, the mistake. I’ve never been one to say sorry very much. However, in this case, my pride...

Can take the hit. 

“Why are you apologizing? I’m the one who messed up.”

Naminé looks up at me, her watery eyes following my face, as I lower myself into a sitting position. So I’m not standing over her. 

“It’s okay to be mad at me. I should have been more careful.” I take a breath. Lower my head. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh...” she breathes, a soft hushed sound. Disbelieving. Like it’s impossible that I would apologize at all. 

Um. Another reason I don’t really do apologies, the mood in the air always gets so _awkward_ and _full_ after someone’s said sorry. Like nothing’s quite done yet, an expectation of something more. 

Quick! Change the subject!

I gesture to the book in her lap. “You figure anything out with that?”

Naminé _smiles._ Very different from her fear from before. 

The sight is so unexpected that I have to stop and _stare_ , for a moment. 

“Yes, I did. Want to see?”

“Go for it!” I just manage to smile back, spreading out my arms in invitation. 

Face scrunched up in concentration, Naminé raises her right hand. Above her palm, a small sphere _appears._ It’s warm. Hot, the closer I get to it.

Red and smells like smoke.

“Fire is the easiest, according to the book,” Naminé continues, like she isn’t impossibly _having Fire come out of her hands._

Holy crap. Magic is so _cool._ I want to do that!

“Show me! How can I do that!”

Naminé curls up her hand and the Fire disappears. “Oh? Um, I have the book. You can look here...”

She carefully lifts the small textbook. The pages are very thin, delicate to the touch. See-through, almost, the way the light hits that paper. What if my thick, clumsy gloves tear the pages?

I shake my head. “Nah, I’ll just crawl over there and I look at it. You hold it?”

“All right.” Naminé lowers the book back into her lap, and I crawl over carefully. Examining the block of text. Hm, seems rather boring, a lot about “humors” and “aura” and other similar sounding nonsense. 

But wait. 

There’s a small note, crammed into the margins of the blocky paragraph under the Fire symbol. The handwriting is loose and round, easy on the eyes. 

**_Want something to be burning really really badly, to cast the first time. Lets you know what magic to use to cast later._ **

A secondary section written in darker ink, an afterthought, almost. 

**_Just don’t cast near any drapes._ **

Heh. I can’t fight the smile off my face at what those words imply, as I sit back to digest the new info. What this writer must set on fire by accident. Good thing there isn’t anything here to burn...is there? Other than the chair, that’s still here. But is there something else that could burn here?

My eyes flick around, taking in dark marks on the walls. _Black_ marks. Like smoke. 

Uh? Yeah, I won’t say anything. Naminé’s not dead and nothing’s on fire, that’s what’s important. Yeah. It’ll be fine. 

(If _I_ don’t set anything on fire...)

But what do I want to burn? A target that won’t do too much serious damage. Won’t end up hurting either of us. Or Naminé, at least. 

My gloved fingers twitch. Well, I’m currently _wearing_ something very annoying indeed. The worst itchiness ever. 

But that would be setting _myself_ on fire. Naminé would object to that. 

Or...I could take off my skirt. Set that on fire, though I don’t know how flammable the strange stiff material is. 

Yeah. I’m gonna try it. Practice and all that. 

Cards out first, since my belts are what they’re stuck in. Take the decks out, put them carefully on the ground by Naminé. 

“Ruse, what are you doing?”

I hold up a finger. “Trying this magic stuff.”

“Uh, Ruse.”

“Wait a sec.”

Concentrating. I _really, really_ hate this skirt. Let it _burn_. Hate it so much. Burn, burn, smoke coming out, hot, too hot to touch. 

“Ruse, open your eyes.”

I do. The skirt...is the same. Mostly. There’s streaks rising from it, like smoke but not. Shadowy and _Dark._

Nope. Not fire. None at all. Just...Darkness. Like a Dark Corridor. But not a corridor, for obvious reasons. 

Huh?

Try again. Repeat all the steps, advice and all. Nothing. Just blackness. Again. And again. Same, every time. 

I frown, wiggling my fingers. Why can’t I _do it_?

Whenever I try, all that comes to my call is a familiar swirling blackness. The same blackness that makes up the irritating Suit that I’m forced to wear for protection. 

Step-by-step, following the instructions carefully...all I get is _Darkness._ No Fire.

I fight the urge to snarl, to bang my fist into the ground. I do grimace, though, teeth bared and fierce. 

Naminé flinches. Just barely, but it’s as attention-catching as the sun in my eyes, for me. Why is everything Naminé does so...noticeable to me? Usually I’m _awful_ at this kind of stuff. Maybe it has to do with our heart connection...?

Huh. More stuff to think about and I have _so much of that_ already. Man, I should probably start writing this all down...

But I need some paper. And...that reminds me!

“Naminé, what should we do about your sketchbook?”

She blinks at me. “My sketchbook...?” A baffled look creeps across her face, a clear “where did this train of thought come from?” writing itself there. 

My hands are flat against the ground, tapping my fingers against it. Yeah, let’s keep going with this. Draw attention away from my continued failure. “This magic stuff is important and you’re super good with it...do you still need your sketchbook to do memories? You also touched my heart, without it!”

“That’s true.” Naminé tilts her head in thought. “...I did do that.”

“So could you fix Sora’s memories now?”

“I don’t know...” She wrings her hands, refusing to meet my eyes.

“Um, I could look for him?” I offer, patting my hands on the ground. Creating a solid beat with the sound. 

“Maybe later. Not now.”

Hm. Funny, I thought she would be all over that, with how she wanted to help Sora earlier. 

“I mean, I could _try_ to get the sketchbook,” I try, patting the floor harder. “But I think Marluxia is guarding it, so that would be hard...”

Naminé shivers. Probably in response to me mentioning Marluxia. 

“So I thought that maybe if I bring Sora _here,_ for physical contact, that might work. Since you worked with my heart while touching me.”

“That could work,” Naminé allows.

I clap my hands together, a huge smile on my face. “Great! Let’s go for it!”

Jump to my feet, grabbing my skirt, shoving that back on along with regathering my decks. Ready to go!

...Almost. Something’s missing. Not there in my belt. 

My stomach growls, almost like a reminder. 

Oh, right. Granola bars...I need those. 

“Naminé, where’s the food?”

“Over here.” Naminé directs me to a small pile of bags, hidden under her chair. I’m not really sure why I didn’t catch that. Probably cuz I wasn’t looking. I can miss stuff like that pretty easily.

I scoot over for a better look. 

Most of the bags left are the nuts and stuff. Not a lot of dried fruit.

“Whoa, where did all the raisin things go?”

Naminé coughs. “I ate them.” Her pale cheeks flush. “Because you said you didn’t like them...”

“Wait, you didn’t have to do that!” I wave my hands at her. Time to nip this self-sacrifice stuff in the bud! “If you don’t like them, you don’t have to eat them because I won’t!”

“But I do like them.” Her cheeks darken even further. Or go brighter, depending on the perspective I’m taking here. Is she...glowing? 

“Well, uh, that’s good then. You can do that. Have fun with raisins?”

“They’re good,” she says. Her hands dig through the pile and she pushes out a small stack of granola bars to me. “Here you go!”

“Oh, thanks!”

I smile, bright and big. Her cheeks, somehow, impossibly go brighter until she glows like a firefly. A whole group of fireflies. Really, actually. 

“Whoa! Naminé, are you okay!?”

“Y-yes! I’m fine!” She squeaks, shoving her head into her hands. One hand comes out, briefly, to shove a blue card into my hands. 

I look it over. “Is this-?”

“Yes, try that Room Card!”

“Alright. Thanks, Naminé!”

And restocked with plenty of granola bars, ready to seek out Sora, here I go!

* * *

“Fricking Wonderland.”

I grimace, rubbing at my head. Where I had just hit it against a low hanging flower bloom. One of those bellflowers. It jingles at me, like a real bell, as I glare at it. 

Wonderland...has never been my favorite world for a variety of reasons. 

First, the background music. It’s...not great. I much prefer Hollow Bastion’s theme or Neverland’s. Or even Traverse Town’s. Not that background music is really a thing around here. Unfortunately. Be awesome if there was. 

Second, the issue of falling off everything. My balance has never been good in either game platforming or real life. I’m no good at platforming... Thankfully, I haven’t fallen _nearly_ so much as I did playing Kingdom Hearts, probably because I have the assistance of Riku’s excellent body control. 

Still fall, of course. But every other tree-slash-mushroom top now, instead of _every_ time. 

Third, Trickmaster. Enough said. 

There are new things to dislike, though. Like the climbing I have to do everywhere, seeing how the memory seems to be assuming I’m shrunken down. The oversized flowers that release huge gushes of pollen, making me sneeze and _sneeze._

And the Heartless _everywhere_ that I keep accidentally running into. Ugh. Enough grinding, I say!

But even with the flowers being a pain...Naminé seems to enjoy them, asking me to look closer at various blooms as I pass them. So I guess they can’t be _all_ bad. 

*I wonder what those flowers are called. They are awfully pretty.*

“Maybe, bellflowers?” I suggest, “Or foxglove...it’s been a while since I brushed up on my flowers.”

*...you know a lot, Ruse.*

“Hm, yeah?” I eye the environment, checking to make sure that I won’t be ambushed by a random flying Heartless. One of those music-elemental ones, super sneaky they are. 

*...Never mind.*

“Okay.” I shrug, hopping onto a nearby bush top. And by hopping, I mean dig my hands into the leaves and pulling myself up, laying on the top once I manage to flip myself over. 

Breathing hard as I stare up at the ceiling, the canopy of trees. Ugh...climbing...the worst...

Can’t rest long. Heartless will pop up and _eat me_ , if I do. 

But...my fingers tug at my belt, as I sit up. At my deck of Room Cards. My _new_ cards. 

Ones that I’ve never seen before. At least, not outside of the game in my memories...

Cards like Calm Bounty and Moment’s Reprieve, that produce rooms with no Heartless in them. At _all._ Rooms that will let me rest for longer. 

Strange. The treasure chests that pop in the Calm Bounty-like areas even give me _cards._ More powerful Attack Cards and even a _Potion_ card or two. 

Potion cards that let me reload my available deck faster, just by focusing on the card in question. _Cool._ ...maybe I’ll get _more_ Item Cards. 

I’m supposed to have Elixirs, right? 

Hmmm. That’s...weird. But I guess that’s more proof that this real life is different from the actual game. I mean, it only makes sense that Riku Replica had Elixirs for his first fight against Riku because Riku was higher level than Sora at the time...

But why didn’t I have any, for my own fight?

Was I supposed to?

“Where are the Elixirs? Or were, I guess?”

I don’t have an answer right now, for that. But that’s all right, because of what I spot in this room I’ve picked out, right in front of me. 

That green light, that circle on the ground right there...

“Whoa, a save point!” 

*Yes, a safe point.* Naminé both agrees and corrects me at the same time. 

Huh. That’s interesting. 

The light washes away my cuts and bruises as I stand in the middle of it. Like I’ve done before, but I don’t know if it “saves” anything or not. Safe point might be a better term, then, in this case. 

I mean, I don’t _get_ a save screen to create a file in or anything. 

So I guess not _everything_ is a game. 

Though it feels like it, sometimes, with this card system. 

Hmm. So does a save point do anything else but heal? A question to join the pile. The pile of ones that I don’t think I’m going to get an answer to very soon. 

I _really_ need some paper to write this all down on...hmmm. 

Whatever. I’ll figure it out. 

I point to the door ahead of me. “That way, right Naminé?”

*I think so.*

I frown. “You think so?”

*It’s not clear. Like that strange room.*

Hmm. I did promise to be more careful, but I can’t really go back. That door is the only exit I have here in this Refuge place. 

I take a deep breath. “Naminé, I think it might be another Room of Power. I’m going in. Just...don’t worry.”

A sense of worry. Fear. Right after I tell her not to worry, of course. 

But finally she agrees. Knowing just as much as I do, it's the only path I have, unless I want to Dark Corridor again. 

*Okay. Just...do your best.*

I smile, rub at my chest. “You too.”

Flip out a card, look it over as I insert it into the door. A deep sigh escapes me, at the familiar Nobody symbol. 

Yep. Another Room of Power.

“Alright, Xemnas, I am going to _kick your butt._ ”

* * *

“Ah, it seems you are special too.”

“Oh sh-”

* * *

“Ah, it seems you are special too.”

“I’ve had enough of you.”

* * *

“Ah, it seems you are special too.”

“Hi, I’m Xemnas and I’m a total butthead. A _special_ butthead.”

* * *

Contrary to what my various quotations may lead one to believe, I did not face a Room of Power every new doorway. No, just every _other_ doorway. 

A mixture of Wonderland hell and Secret Boss hell. 

Joy. True joy. Why me?

I lose. Every time. Of course. 

I’m no match for Xemnas. Even a memory of him. Really just hammers in how much of a main character I’m _not._ No Sora, no Riku. Not any of the Keyblade wielders and heroes throughout the series. Just...

A replica that existed only in Chain of Memories, and assisted (debatably) Riku in Kingdom Hearts 3 as some kind of ghost. That’s who I am, now. 

An _extremely_ minor character. No one special. 

Whatever. I don’t need to win against the Xemnas memory. I just need to get good enough, last long enough against the memory, that the Organization members in Castle Oblivion won’t be able to slaughter me right off the bat. 

No matter how annoying it is that the Room of Power keeps ambushing me...and I can’t even skip the cutscenes!

“Dumb room,” I grumble to myself. 

*Really annoying.* Naminé agrees. *It’s hard to keep track of where you’re going, when that room makes our connection fuzzy.*

There’s been so many rooms and no sign of my quarry. Only a certain Room of Power tracking me down. As well as Naminé redirecting me every so often. 

“Naminé, are you sure Sora’s around here?” I thought Wonderland was an earlier world for him, but maybe he went back...you _could_ do that in the game, after all. 

*You don’t know until you look for him some more.*

Hm. Vague. “But you do, right? Do you see anything?”

*That card was meant to bring you to who was closest to your heart...*

Closest to my heart? That’s even more vague than before. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Before I can get a clear answer...there! A sound! Someone talking! Multiple someones. Could it be...? A certain Sora around here...

Wait, that voice doesn’t sound like Sora. No, it sounds more like Riku. 

Frick. I’m in the _basement_ . Not anywhere close to my target. How _frustrating._

“Well, I guess I should start heading upstairs, then...” I mutter to myself, under my breath. 

Peering around the corner carefully, I catch a glimpse of the people talking. Not Organization members, which is excellent. Riku is one (of course) and the other...I squint. 

Wait. I _know_ who that guy is. Never expected to see him in person, _as_ a person. Short and all, not a dressed up Disney Cast member. 

At last, someone _shorter_ than me. A not human somebody. 

He looks like...I take in every detail I can. 

Two circular ears, impossibly so. Something like a snout, he looks _furry_. Furry! Who would have guessed? Wearing red and black, big yellow shoes with blue straps on them. Alive and real. 

“Mickey?” I say. Too loud. 

Riku whirls around at the sound and the mouse in question gives a little jump. 

“How do you know that name?” He demands. The boy, not the mouse. Mickey’s still double-taking between the two of us. Oh, crap. 

Riku then dramatically points at me. At least he’s not pointing at me with a weapon. 

“Have you been watching me?” 

Man, I don’t really have any _other_ reason that I would know Mickey’s name. Any valid reason, that is. Gotta go with it. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I have totally been watching this whole time. That’s how I know his name. That’s right.”

“Who are you?” Mickey interjects. He’s very...see-through. Yet the more I look at him, the solid he seems. Like I’m painting him into existence with my attention. 

...How did Mickey Mouse find his way into Castle Oblivion, again? I can’t remember.

“That’s the replica that wanted to replace me,” Riku explains, before I have a chance to say anything. To be fair, I’m still kind of in shock at hearing that familiar high-pitched voice come out of an _actual person_ standing in front of me. 

To say that I _want to be Riku,_ though? My heart burns. I don’t _want that at all._

“Who would want to be _you_?” I snarl. "It's Ruse, not _Replica."_

Riku takes a physical step back at that, but quickly rallies. “You’re going to deny it, after everything you said about becoming a better me?”

...for one thing, I don’t remember saying that _at all. Someone’s_ not remembering things correctly here and it’s not me, for once. 

“What, wanting to be stronger means _replacing you_ ? Give me a break.” I scoff, brushing my hair out of my face. “No matter what everyone else says, I’m not _you_. Not a toy either.”

Just Ruse. _Me._ Whoever that is. 

“A toy? Who called you that?” Mickey, coming in with those surprisingly deep questions. Questions I don’t want to answer. 

“That doesn’t matter. The real question is why are you still here? Your hero’s somewhere upstairs, you know.”

“You know where Sora is? Tell me!” Riku, like always, is quick. Too quick. 

Buzzing in my chest. I ignore it in favor of, uh, _ahem, taunting_ Riku some more. Hey, don’t judge, okay?

(Why does he make me so angry?)

“No, I _don’t_. You’re so quick to blame, no wonder everyone leaves you behind.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I want to stuff them back in. 

_Frick._ I didn’t _mean to say that!_ No one deserves to hear something so cruel! I’m so _awful._ Why did I do that?

Riku’s face...well, I’ve _gutted_ him. Mickey’s eyes widen. About to say something. 

“I-” I step towards the two of them. 

*Ruse, she’s coming!*

I pause at the words that have finally come through. Sniff the air cautiously. 

Ozone. The smell of sharp _ozone_ in the air. The air before a thunderstorm. 

Oh frick. Oh _no_. 

“What?” Riku asks me warily, noticing my actions. He’s not stupid after all, even he acts that way sometimes. 

“She’s coming. Run for it!”

I make a break for the door, tossing my top Room Card at it. Fling myself through it, without waiting to see how Riku responds. 

He’s a hero. He’s got Mickey. He’ll be fine. 

(Probably.)

(What have I done?)

* * *

“Ah, it seems you are special too.”

“Oh, _seriously?_ Not now!”

* * *

Riku hadn’t been expecting to run into his replica, after leaving Wonderland. Mickey had been a pleasant surprise, but his replica...not great. 

His double is gone now. Disappeared again into the memories. Into _Sora’s_ memories. 

But something’s different about this other him. Different than before. 

Still... _mean._ But not looking for a fight. Well...other than with words. Doubtful thoughts whirl in Riku’s mind, as he stares down at the ground. Fingers clenching into fists. 

Was it true? That everyone left because of him, in the end?

“Riku, what your replica, Ruse, said...it’s not true.” Riku looks over, to the gloved hand on his arm. To His Majesty, compassion bright in his eyes. 

Not really touching him. But it’s as close as they’re going to get here. 

“...thank you, Your Majesty.”

Is it really true? He...doesn’t know. Everything’s much more confusing like this, he knows so little about this place. 

Except that Sora is somewhere upstairs. Like his replica told him. Why?

His replica...left. After saying those words, left rather than fight anymore. 

Running from a “she.” Whoever that is. 

He scents the air, like his replica did a few moments earlier. The smell of a thunderstorm, a big one, like the storm that...swallowed up Destiny Islands in Darkness. 

A familiar spiral of Darkness. Riku tenses, pulling out Soul Eater in preparation. And what comes out of the portal is not Vexen, or Ruse. 

It’s a woman. 

A blond woman. With her hair kinda like antenna, or horns, sticking out of her head. She looks him over, with a _glare._

“Oh, it’s the _original_ .” The woman sneers. Riku has a feeling that she’s the kind of person that sneers a lot. The type of person to rub even _Sora_ the wrong way. 

“Who are you?” He asks warily. Keeping Soul Eater out, ready just in case. She’s wearing the same kind of coat that “Vexen” did. 

A possible enemy. 

She laughs, tossing back her head in the process. “Why, I’m Larxene, of course!”

His eyes narrow as he enters his battle ready stance. “You’re part of the Organization.”

“Duh. What gave it away, the coat?” Green eyes flash at him. Looks like lighting, about to shoot out and kill him. Raging.

Mickey glares at her, by his side. Holds a hand out. _Wait._

The woman doesn’t move. Not right away. But for some reason...

Inexplicably, she starts to smile. Cold and cruel. “I _was_ here for that dumb replica. But I think you’ll do.” There are knives out, in her hands, spitting sparks. 

“What you think _Sora_ would say, if I brought him his best friend’s head?”

“Sora!? You know where Sora is? Tell me!” A flash of familiar light as Mickey turns into a card once more, Riku dives to attack. 

This Larxene jumps back, crackling with Thunder. 

_He has to know!_

* * *

Stumbling out of Secret Boss Time leaves me the way I always feel, after getting out of there. Dizzy and a bit hungry. Not as hungry as when I teleport, but still hungry. No actual wounds, just the echo and memory of them. Which is great. 

What’s not great is the guilt in my gut, from earlier. But I don’t want to think about that. 

“Hey, I lasted a whole minute that time!”

“A whole minute doing what?” a deep voice inquires, from behind me. 

I jump, spinning around. “Don’t sne- oh.”

Tall, tall man. Wide man. _Big_ man, that looks like a statue come to life, all craggly and rocky. Blue eyes, reddish-brown hair. Hair that doesn’t really look like real hair, but the hair of a carved marble statue. 

The dude whose name I always forget, the guy that does earthquake stuff. One of the Organization members I’ve seen before in person. That I waved to. 

_Lexaeus._

Well, beans. Isn’t that how it goes, though? Always out of the frying pan into the metaphorical just dug grave.

Soul Eater comes easily to hand. Perhaps too easily.

A reminder of the boy I had just...

No. Don’t think about that. I force myself to pay attention to Lexaeus, to focus on the problems of _now_ and not my stupid mistakes. 

He’s talking. Pay attention to the talking. 

“If you do not surrender, I will be forced to severely damage you,” the Nobody warns me in the same steady voice he uses for everything. His weapon is out too, that black and red-lined axe thing. With a blue hilt. That weapon I don’t know the name of and will never know at this point. 

I bare my teeth. “Back off!”

For my efforts, I’m rewarded with a stony look that leaves me feeling like a child who's just been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Small. I mean, smaller than I already feel, this guy is _huge._

“Is that the choice you are going to make?” He lifts his weapon onto his shoulder. Stone. Complete and total stone. “Then so be it.”

“Just leave me alone!” I dive forward, into a roll, as his axe swipes in my direction. 

Cards out! Pick a good high number...

Break. Break. Break. 

He _keeps breaking my cards!_

Dust everywhere, my eyes are watering. 

Frick, I was _right._ I’m not ready for an Organization fight, a “Thirteenth Struggle” if you will. I’m _losing._

*Ruse!*

Naminé. I can’t let her down. If I die here...

So I guess I’ll do _that_ then. 

“Wait!” I flick my fingers, allowing my attack deck to settle back in my belt. If this was any other Organization member, I don’t think this would have any chance of working...

Lexaeus, thankfully, catches on. His cards fade as well. His weapon still out, as he eyes me carefully. 

Soul Eater goes away. I hold up my hands. “I surrender.”

“Hm.” Lexaeus’ eyes narrow at me. So much emotion, for a guy who claims he has none. Just like the rest of the Nobodies here. 

One moment, I’m up. Surrendering. The next, the man’s knocked me over, faster than I thought possible for him, and has one foot on my chest. 

One booted foot keeping me down. 

Breathing, harder now. My chest goes tight. Panicky. 

He looks me over, bends down, to stretch out my arm. My right arm. Pins it there with a rock-like cuff, that comes up with a wave of his hand.

“What...are you doing?”

“It is best to be sure,” he says solemnly. No emotion at all, really. Raising his axe once more over my arm. Ready to completely break it. 

My eyes go so very wide and my breath hisses out of me while my heart runs as fast as a wild horse. 

_Nonononono_.

I don’t have any way to heal my arm if Lexaeus breaks it now. Naminé and I don’t have any potions, don’t know how to use Cure. I won’t be able to run or fight, forced to stay under Organization control until they see fit to “repair me.” 

Which, I’m sure, is Lexaeus’ entire motive behind breaking my arm, even after I’ve surrendered. To keep me from escaping. From putting up even more of a fight than I already have. 

(Well, he’s not wrong.)

Heartburn. Fire of my soul, rising. 

*Ruse!* I hear Naminé crying out, from far away. Yet far too close at the same time. 

They get me, I will be leaving her behind. And I said I will always come back. 

I will not break my promises. Not while I still breath. 

(I need to say sorry. To Riku.)

I reach, pulling on everything that I have, and I _scream._

 _Darkness_ breaks the stone pulling at my arm, completely and totally. 

_Darkness_ shoots out of me, knocking Lexaeus away. Not far, he steadies himself barely a few feet away, but his foot is no longer on my midsection. No longer pinning me down. 

“No!”

I could run. 

(He was going to _break my arms._ )

But he’ll just chase me. Can I run fast enough?

(Stop him. The way he was going to stop me.)

“Will you run like a faint-hearted coward?” Lexaeus challenges me, hefting his weapon over his shoulder. “Another battle, after you surrendered?”

I _glare_ at him. Hey, no fair! I’m the one who gets to throw out coward insults here!

I’ll just- wait. Soul Eater is already out. Waiting for me to use it. Like before. 

When did that happen?

(Does it matter?)

“We’ll see how your power has grown, in this state.” Lexaeus swings, and brings out his cards with the motion. A fight! Mine come out in response, ready to use. 

Let’s _go._

Again. Man, I’m kind of dumb, aren’t I?

It’s good that my cards have slowly rising in number, that I’ve been grabbing Item Cards everywhere. 

Because if my deck was the way it was when I fought Riku...

I wouldn’t have survived Lexaeus’ first hit. Because I wouldn’t have been able to break through it. And all of the attacks he keeps shooting out like there’s no tomorrow. Like before. 

Somehow, my cards are stronger than before. Higher in number. How? But I can’t afford to figure it out right now...

So many rocks...stupid elemental attacks. I wish I could do that too. I can’t. Only _Darkness._ Which is...kinda cool, if I think about it. But not exactly flashy. And it’s risky. I don’t really know very much about using Darkness except that the notable users of it in the Kingdom Hearts universe have all been evil. 

Not very motivating, I have to tell you. 

But enough thinking! I’m fighting, not thinking like an idiot!

“Return to the Earth!”

Ouch. _Ouch._ Good thing I managed to dodge most of those rocks...and had a handy 0 card on hand, to catch the rest. 

He’s bigger than me. Has a lot of reach on me, especially the way he keeps swinging his axe. And _throwing_ it, what the heck. Best option would be if I had some kind of ranged weapon, but I don’t. 

As risky as it is...

“Got to get closer,” I mutter to myself. There’s humming in my ears, Naminé trying to talk to me. But I’m too busy to listen. 

Concentrating. Dodge rocks, the cards. Get to him. 

Getting closer, close enough to touch. Within his reach, so _within_ his reach, that his weapon will be less effective. Leap into reach, dive for his chest once his axe raises to attack me...

Closer. _Closer._ Until I’m about hugging his chest. He seems surprised by this, me pouncing on him. Doesn’t matter. 

Claws out, I don’t need Soul Eater for this. Slice. Thick material, but I can cut it through easily if I just make my claws a bit longer...

Sounds. Moving. I keep cutting. Digging in. I could bite, but not enough pressure. Claws will have to do. 

Sticky wetness, on my claws. More sounds. Squish, squish. 

(Tear him apart!)

Wait...

I pause. Breathe, look down to see my claws sliding in and out. Sharpening.

...What am I doing?

What am I _doing?_

(Kill him!)

“No,” I say out loud. Shake my head. Look at the man at my feet, the man I’ve knocked over and attacked, over and over again. Viciously. Claw marks torn right through his coat, exposing his ripped up chest. Marks of an animal attack almost. Like I’m some wild animal. The wounds are dark. Very dark. Not bleeding out right, but leaning that way. 

The lights are dim. The shadows are very, very long. Stretching out from my feet, all of them. Dark. Capital D Dark. 

...I’m very, very hungry. _Starving_. Like I just went through a dozen Dark Corridors. 

There’s the taste of iron in my mouth. Pain. My tongue hurts and my lips bleed slowly, onto my teeth. 

I...I look at my hands. My hands with dagger-like claws on them, seriously Wolverine style. Glistening. Slick. With a color darker than any human red. 

Do Nobodies bleed? They never did in the games, but the games had to be kept E for Everyone and you can’t do that if you show blood and gore. 

Maybe the better question is this: do Keyblade wounds bleed?

Because I don’t have a Keyblade. I’ve been tearing at him with my _hands._ Now, he’s _bleeding_ all over. Black blood, monster blood. Dark, dark, dark blood. Blood that seems more like shadow and Dark Corridor than anything truly physical. Of this reality. 

(I wonder...do Replicas bleed the same?)

I back up, nearly tripping over my feet in the process. As I speed away, backwards, to escape my victim left on the ground.

Now that I’ve stopped attacking him, Lexaeus painfully, slowly rises to one knee. Supporting himself with his own weapon. “Will you not finish the job?” He challenges me. 

My head shakes in the negative. “I’m not killing you.”

His eyes are gemstones, reflecting the light of the room back at me in a cold disdain. “You are even more of a coward than your progenitor.”

“Rather be a coward than a murderer!” I shoot back. 

“You assume you have the luxury to avoid that course of action.” Lexaeus looks me over. “You cannot run forever, replica.”

“I...”

(He’s right.)

(Can’t run forever.)

(What can I do?)

I turn my back on him. Don’t give him an answer. Do what I’ve been doing this entire time: _run._

I run. Naminé’s fear alongside my own in my heart, I _run_. No risking Dark Corridors this time, just me spamming room cards and dodging Heartless on the way. All of them. No fighting, just running. 

Until my fingers finally flip out a Moment’s Reprieve. Thankfully.

White room, typical Castle Oblivion style. There’s a circle in the corner, glowing green. A save point. A save point that only heals my wounds, that won’t change _any_ of this, won’t let me reload like a game would. 

(This is no game.)

My stomach rebels. Empty. Darkness-hungry. 

I can’t eat anything. It would only come up as puke, if it did. My stomach twists itself into knots, eating me up from the inside out. 

Breathing is difficult, but my lungs manage it despite everything.

I slide down against the wall, wrapping my arms around my legs. 

“What do I _do_?”

* * *

Kingdom Hearts is your basic RPG. 

RPGs, generally speaking, require you as the player to kill things in them. The majority of the times, those kills are not human. And if they are, you do not have a choice to avoid killing them, most of the time. 

Just NPCs. Just mobs. Just enemies. 

Kingdom Hearts is an RPG that always has its most dangerous foes be human-shaped, in some form or another. Even if they go through later form changes, they always start out looking human. 

Talking to you, even if it’s just to mock you. 

Very much _people._

It’s one thing to kill people in a game. They’re not real, after all, and that doesn’t mean you’ll go commit homicide in real life if you do. 

But this _is_ real life now. 

I...I _don’t want to kill people._ Even if they really deserve it, even if I feel inclined towards homicide at times. But I might have no other choice. There are no prisons that I can throw people like Marluxia and Larxene for their crimes. And even if there were, they could just teleport out of them. Also, you can’t disarm people who can literally summon weapons out of thin air. 

Execution is the only punishment available to me, to prevent them from hurting me and who I care about.

But...that means _killing_ them. 

Even if they come back... I still killed them. That doesn’t really change anything. 

...Does it?

I...don’t know what to do. 

Just...defend myself, I guess. I hope I won’t end up killing anyone, but will it really end up that way for me? Who knows?

There are no good answers. Not for something like this. 

I don’t want anyone to lose someone like I-

No. That’s not important. Another life.

Another life that might as well have not happened. 

...Is this for real? Or not?

Everything will be determined by what I decide here. Two choices...

I could stop the Organization members in their tracks, _end_ them, even. Confident in the knowledge that they will come back, that death will not permanent for my enemies. Or I could do nothing, just stay with Naminé. Hiding away.

At least...it would be two choices if this were a _game._ Renegade or Paragon, Light Side or Dark Side, Angel or Demon. No in-between. 

“But real life is much more complicated than that.” I cross my gloved hands on top of each other, forearms resting on my knees.

I shake my head. Almost laugh to myself. “What am I doing, talking philosophy with myself?”

I barely passed my philosophy class in college, after all...

Enough musing! Time to make a decision, for the future that lies ahead. 

“If an Organization member tries to hurt me or Naminé, or I’m around when they attack Riku, Sora...I’ll stop them.” With all the power I can muster, I’ll die if I do any less than that. I won’t seek them out, won’t try to kill them purposefully, but I’ll fight. Fight with everything I’ve got, until I can get away. 

A promise out loud. Words aren’t quite real until you either speak them or write them. Thoughts aren’t enough, on their own. 

Protect who I care about. Protect the future. The happy ending yet to unfold. 

And if that means dealing death to my opponent...

“So be it.”

But please, please, may I never have to make that choice. 

I look over at the save point just glowing a foot away from my feet. Swallow. Rise to my feet and walk over to stand in it. The light glows brighter. 

I’m already healed but...

It won’t hurt. 

I don’t know if it _actually_ saves anything, but...

It won’t hurt to stand here. Just in case. 

Decision made. 

There is no going back now. 

* * *

Lexaeus runs his gloved fingers over the tears in his coat. The blood has already stopped running, the wounds sealing themselves up. But the dark patches have dried his coat in stiff chunks. 

It’ll need cleaning. Repairs. 

All of which he’ll get once he returns to the areas of Castle Oblivion Zexion has claimed for the three of them. But before that...they’ll want report, Vexen most certainly, about the replica. 

Lexaeus considers. Allowing Skysplitter to disappear, standing there disarmed, while he thinks this through. Every aspect of it. 

Vexen’s replica is a fierce little thing, though certainly a shirker to when comes to following through on its attacks. Nowhere close to killing him, yet it had panicked at the very thought of his death. Clever, in that it knew when it was at risk of being overpowered and sought to turn the tables in its favor (like he had seen Zexion do, in the past). Fearful...in a way he hasn’t seen in a long time, surrounded by those who no longer have their hearts. 

Its heart...will make it unpredictable. 

It’ll certainly need some supervision, at the very least, if Vexen plans to leave it as it is, a tool to be used against Marluxia. Not by Marluxia. 

Why had Xigbar seen fit to bring such a traitorous backstabber into the Organization...?

The worlds will never know. 

But the replica had used tremendous amounts of Darkness, when it “berserked” (for lack of a better term for what had happened...) More than Riku did currently. 

Perhaps...

This replica could make a decent replacement for Riku, if it did all that Vexen claimed it could. 

“We’ll see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays! A gift for you all!  
> Now, I may have said that Riku doesn't have a Dark Form but I never said that Ruse didn't...


	6. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our Hero learns the Power of Teamwork, Scan, and Fire. Be careful when playing with Fire, you just might get burned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, first update of the year! Have a super long chapter!

Programming in Castle Oblivion is always complicated yet fairly rewarding, should one get through its base model’s hiccups and fidgets. 

Always a question to how such a remote world has such in-depth programs and up to date processors. Reminds Zexion of his younger days, when he meddled with Tron’s systems. Days that he doesn’t like to reminisce on, yet always ends up doing so anyway. Castle Oblivion is a place of memories. He can’t wait until he leaves this world behind for good. 

Movement in the dark. The sound of a Corridor opening and closing, boots hitting against the floor. Ah. He’s back from scouting the replica, in an effort to get Vexen to shut up. Now, to hear what Lexaeus has to say...

“Lexaeus, you’re back-” And injured, Zexion can’t help but notice as he pauses mid sentence to further look him over. 

“The replica...lost control, Vexen. To its own Darkness.” Lexaeus reports. His chest...Zexion eyes him carefully. His coat will need to be repaired, at the very least. 

Who could have guessed something so new could manage to do damage to that degree?

“Vexen. Your project is getting out of hand. Even more than it already was.” Zexion folds his arms over his chest. “Losing control of its Darkness like that?”

Vexen bristles. Of course. “My project is going _perfectly._ The high levels of Darkness are part of his nature, due to me heightening his ability to use Darkness at the expense of other elemental magics.”

“How does _that_ prove its success?” Zexion doesn’t bother fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “The replica stole Naminé and is running around picking fights with whoever it runs across. If that’s a success, I can’t imagine what a failure would be.”

Vexen throws an arm out with a huff. “You simply don’t understand the truth of the matter.”

Very cleverly avoiding his point, Zexion can’t help but notice. Fool. He taps his fingers against his other arm. 

“It does have potential,” Lexaeus says. “But potential is worse than useless if not properly directed.”

“Properly directed?” Vexen scoffs. “That shouldn’t be a problem for too much longer.”

Zexion narrows his eyes. Well, tries to. His more human eye cooperates on that matter while his other does not. Good thing only one is currently visible to the others. 

What is Vexen plotting, to be so confident?

Hm.

“We’ll see.” Zexion turns to his waiting computer screen once more. Taps at the keys, returning to his current project of corralling the errant programs. A project that should prove more useful than a replica, when it comes to fruition. 

“We’ll see.”

* * *

Now that I’ve got my murder dilemma sorted out...well, not really, I just don’t want to think about it anymore. I want to think about the green pool I’m currently standing in instead. The Save Point, Safe Point, whatever it is. 

There’s got to be something to these “Safe Points” beyond just getting healed. There has to be. 

Not that being healed to full isn’t pretty useful, but it’s...weird. Really weird. Another video gamey thing to add to the card system. Do Safe Points exist outside of Castle Oblivion? Another thing to figure out once I can get out of here with Naminé...

I scratch at my wrist, at the itch rubbery material covering it. Step out of the green circle, and the glow instantly fades away to near invisibility. 

My nausea has gone away at this point, so time for another snack!

I crunch down on yet another granola bar. The Darkness-given hunger in my gut fades with each bite that slides down my throat. _Dry_ bites. Feels like a beach in my mouth, full of sand and crabs. Maybe I’ll find some water eventually?

That would be nice. 

Let’s do some questions, to distract myself from the dryness as I fiddle with the door. 

“Hey, Naminé? Where would you want to go? If you could go anywhere outside of Castle Oblivion?”

*I would like to go to...* Her quiet voice trails off into the silence of deep thoughts. Even if she doesn’t speak, I still feel the warmth our connection under my collarbone. 

Eventually a card I shove in _does_ stick. Enough to pop the door open. 

“Oh, I didn’t expect _that._ ” I whistle. Well, kinda. I never used to be able to whistle before. Whenever I tried, just air came out. Weak and wimpy. 

But a whistling noise comes out, sharp and true. Guess I can whistle now? That’s a really weird thing to program into a replica but somehow, it seems right up Vexen’s alley, to have replicas be able to do weird things like that. Everything the original can do, amiright? Really weird, though. 

But enough about whistling! Onto the area my card had just opened up to me. 

“Oooo.” Here? I thought this particular world came later. 

I look up at the golden purple tinged sky. My eyes slide over to the clocktower that dominates the skyline. A clocktower that possibly a certain Nobody is sitting on right now. Buildings surround me and the road is paved with the same yellow stone those buildings are made of. 

Twilight Town. 

Cool. 

*Destiny Islands. I want to go to Destiny Islands.* Naminé says confidently. Answering that question I had left hanging, for her. 

“Destiny Islands, huh.” It’s not exactly hard to guess her reasoning behind that choice, if one knows anything about her background, the desire of her heart. “What would you want to do there?”

*Do there?*

“Well...” I clamber up onto a pile of boxes, to better survey the area. Again. Man, I do box-scrambles a lot, don’t I? “I guess you don’t _have_ to do anything, but normally when people go to beaches like Destiny Islands, they do stuff there. Like swimming, or finding shells, or building sandcastles!”

I gesture wildly with my hands, though I know she can’t see my gestures anyway. 

*Oh...I don’t know what to do.* She sounds...sad. 

“That’s okay. We can figure out together.” I try a supportive smile, only to remember, no, she can’t see me. Darn. It’s really hard to be supportive when one party is missing half of the visual cues. Not that I’ve ever been very good at such cues in the first place. 

*Really?* _Hopeful._ So _hopeful_. 

“Of course.”

In canon, Naminé...I don’t think she ever had such hope. She seemed more resigned than anything, longing to become whole and part of Kairi. Longing to _die_. 

I want to change that. 

I want to bring her to Destiny Islands and figure out what to do on those warm sands together. 

I promise.

_You promise?_

A whisper, but when I listen for more...nothing. Am I really going crazy? Seems like. Not to resign myself to that fate but...what can I do?

Just...promise. Protect Naminé, so we can go to Destiny Islands. Together. 

Will I get to see Castle Oblivion’s version of Destiny Islands at some point? Seems likely, though I’m not certain. 

I _am_ in the Twilight Town rooms earlier than scheduled after all. 

(I hope I don’t die here.)

I don’t know what the actual Twilight Town looks like. If it’s anything like the real thing. At least, not yet. Since I’ve never been there and all. But then, you could really make the argument that I’ve never _actually_ gone anywhere outside of Castle Oblivion. 

And you would be right. Except for the parts where I remember being a person outside of Castle Oblivion. Once. 

(If those memories are even real...)

But this memory Twilight Town is pretty interesting, if a bit empty. Of people, that is. There are plenty of Heartless. More than plenty. Stupid amounts. 

_Really_ helpful if you’re trying to go _anywhere._

What a pain. 

And the occasional train whistle that always manages to distract me at _just_ the wrong moment. 

...I have fallen off so many boxes. So many times. 

Train whistles make sense. There is a train station near real Twilight Town, after all. But why are there no clock noises? And no matter what doors I take in its direction, I never get any closer to it. 

Huh. 

The rooms are not really rooms, unlike other places around. Well, they’re better at the illusion that they’re not rooms in a giant castle. The walls are more like the walls of gated communities, than walls holding up the ceiling. The sky looks even more real with swirling moving clouds than it did in Neverland area. Wonder if Castle Oblivion’s gradually getting better at its job. 

...That’s a scary thought. Burr. 

Another door, another card. I pop it in without even bothering to look at it. What does it matter, when everything pretty much turns out the same? Opens the door, enters.

* * *

“Ah, it seems you are special too.”

“Man, I should have checked...”

* * *

Peek into the next room this time, after I peel myself off the floor. At the door, which tells what type of room I’m in. 

Hm. A halfer-room, as I like to call them. Heartless all half-strength, easy pickings. Probably should challenge myself more, especially with how my showing against Lexaeus went. Yet... 

“Fighting Heartless isn’t going to help here.”

Nope. No way. That only thing that _might_ help me is the Room of Power. That accursed Room of Power that I keep walking into. If it’s even a physical place and not some weird Castle hallucination. 

Argh. What a _pain._

“I’m no hero and that’s okay,” I whisper to myself as I slice through another Big Boi. No Riku, no Sora, not any sort of main character. And that’s alright. 

It has to be. 

*You’re a hero, Ruse.* Naminé insists. *Like Sora is.*

I laugh, shaking my head. “Like Sora? No way I can match up to him!” 

My arms itch. I scratch at them, at the ever present reminder that I’m supposed to be a _bad guy_ , the Dark Suit. “I haven’t saved all the worlds, haven’t defeated a super Heartless with Kingdom Hearts. And I don’t want to! That sounds _terrible.”_

Ugh. Awful. I can’t imagine going through a boss-fight like Ansem’s _physically_...it was hard enough on the game controller. 

No, I’m no hero. I don’t want to be. 

A pause. Briefly, before Naminé speaks up again in my heart. 

*About that...Ruse, how you know so mu-*

A flash of red distracts me. A very, very bright red. Not Heartless red, but something else entirely. 

“Oh, waitasec!”

Wanna check that out, whatever it is. I’m not delaying answering Naminé at all, what are you talking about?

(Not that I really know how to answer her...)

Red, red, red, where did you go?

Up ahead! I hurry. 

“Hey, wait up- !” Only to skid to a stop when the red comes into focus, along with a black coat. A far too familiar black coat. 

Well, now I feel dumb. Should have seen that coming. 

I mean, who else in this entire mess has bright red hair?

Stupid. So stupid.

Oh, He _sees_ me. Coming over. Frick. 

I stiffen. Call my weapon to my hand. 

Axel holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m not here to attack you!”

“Really?” I eye him, fighting back the scowl threatening to creep onto my face. “I don’t believe you.”

Darkness stirring under my Dark Suit, or my skin. Feels cold. Very cold. Ice in my veins. 

I don’t want to fight him, but I’ll fight him if I have to. 

*Ruse, you’ll need to go for the door to the right, to get out of here.* Naminé advises.

Yeah, that’s right. I just went up against Lexaeus and _lost._ I won’t win against Axel. My only hope? To run for it. 

I hate this. Hate how I have to keep running. Why can’t I _win_ , for once? But running over there...will bring me right by Axel. That’s bad. I can’t do that. 

“You said you’re not here to hurt me? Prove it!”

“I’m not attacking you right now,” Axel points out. And well, that’s a solid point. 

I tap at my chin. “Alright.” I step a little closer to him, allow Soul Eater to fade away. Hm. Why is he here then? Maybe he’ll answer me if I ask, he answered Xion’s and Roxas’ questions all the times in Days, right? He let Naminé go in canon, surely he’ll want to keep her away from Marluxia now too. Easier that way for his plan. Or Saix’s plan, really. Sure. 

*Ruse...* Naminé seems...a little frustrated. Well, that’s new. I wonder why?

Hm. Enough about that. Let’s figure this dude out before anything else. 

He’s... _hot._ Giving off dry heat like a pet lizard’s heat lamp. Or summer sunlight. A pleasant surprise, considering how fricking cold everywhere around here is. 

I kinda wanna cuddle with him, see if that takes the edge off my bones, my always shivering body. Being cold sucks so _much._

My mouth says what my brain’s thinking. 

“Whoa, you’re _hot_.”

A red eyebrow moves upward. Well, kinda. Both eyebrows move up, I note, but one goes up further than the other. 

“Appreciate the compliment but you’re not really my type.”

Not his type...? What does he mean-?

...

Oh!

My face goes warm, possibly even hotter than the heat Axel’s giving off. “That’s not what I meant! It’s just you’re...” I gesture kinda uselessly with my hands. “Hot. Temperature wise.”

Axel _stares_ at me. 

“Uh...that sounded kinda dumb, didn’t it?”

But now he’s mentioned his looks, I take a moment (or two) to properly look him over. What does _he_ look like, as a Nobody? I did meet him before, but...hey, distracted by my imminent brainwashing. No one can blame me for that. 

Time for a proper examination. Since he’s not going to attack me, apparently. 

His teardrop markings are jagged and stretching out on his cheekbones, larger than they ever were on the game screen. Dark, too, a dark blackish purple. Painted as they are on his pale corpse skin and that too bright red hair...it _does_ make him look like a clown. A _scary_ clown. How bout that?

His eyes are slitted like an angry cat’s. Completely green with no white to be seen. 

“Got me memorized?” he drawls. 

Huh? I blink at him, shaking my head. “Why are you still here?” And not attacking me, I add silently. And did he just use his catchphrase on me? That’s...kinda cool, actually. Who would have guessed I would ever get to hear a video game character’s catchphrase in _person_? Ooo. 

He folds his arms over his chest, looking me over in return. Eventually the redhead shakes his head, turning to walk towards the far door. “You should thank your lucky stars I’m not interested in playing Larxene’s game right now.”

What? What does that mean? Larxene’s game?

Ummm. I just stare. Watch him leave, watch him reach into his pocket to pull out a Room Card. As Axel flips the card over, my eyes catch something about it. 

“Naminé, are you seeing what I’m seeing?” I whisper, moving slightly forward.

*No. What it is?*

I don’t answer. Squint my hardest. 

That card...

Good thing I don’t have to wear glasses anymore, I don’t think I would have caught the design on it otherwise. 

I rush forward. “Hey, wait!”

*What’s wrong?*

I have my hand on my Axel’s arm at the moment he inserts the card. The card with that familiar Nobody sigil that _haunts_ me. 

Too late. The door swings open and swallows us up. 

Well. Beans. 

* * *

The room on the other side...full of familiar pipes and filthy tiling. 

_Hollow Bastion._ Of course. 

“What did you _do_ ?” When Axel turns to face me, to possibly _turn_ on me, there’s light crackling in his hair as his eyes laser right into my heart. Firelight. 

The air stinks of smoke. Woodsmoke.

I remove my hand to quickly put both up in surrender. “Sorry! I didn’t do anything!”

His hands grab at me, but my Dark Suit (for once) proves useful in slipping free. Step back, out of his reach as my breath quickens. No grabby-grabs here.

“Then explain! Why are we _here_?”

“The Room Card you picked _always_ goes here. It’s kinda random, I’m not sure what activates it...”

Wait. There he is. 

_Xemnas_. Flickering in and out of existence. As one does. As he always does, before starting his stupid spiel. 

“What is _that_?”

And Axel’s here. Too. Well, I guess the ambushes are real, after all. For a certain degree of “real.” In Castle Oblivion. Not that I doubted Naminé about them, but after so many of these, it gets kinda weird. Fuzzy. A question of reality. And I’m really not fighting the “real” Xemnas, just a memory of him. Unless I’m not?

I dunno. I should probably stop thinking so much. 

“Yay, I’m not hallucinating after all?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I blink. He sounds upset. Waving his arms around and everything at me. “It’s hard to know what’s real or not, here, you know. And if there’s something wrong with my brain...”

I shrug. 

“There might be something wrong with your brain,” Axel repeats. He runs a gloved hand through bright red hair, shaking his head. “And you’re not worried about this.”

“Dude, I have _anxiety,_ of course there’s something wrong with it! Thinking too much will freak me out, so I don’t.”

Axel groans, shaking his head again. 

“Vexen gave one of his replicas anxiety. Of course he did.”

“What’s th-” the ‘Xemnas’ fizzing stops. Becomes more solid. 

Realish. 

“Ah, it seems you are special too.” Right on schedule. But this time, with _company._

“This is one of Sora’s memories?” Axel asks me in a loud whisper. 

“Who else would it be?”

Axel goes quiet. A thoughtful kind of quiet. I can almost guess what kind of thoughts are grinding around in that skull of his. Like the question of how I stumbled across this memory fight in the first place. Which I have no intention of ever enlightening him of. 

Nope, never ever.

I’ve seen this “cutscene” who knows how many times at this point. But there’s something different about watching it with someone who’s never seen it before. 

Must be linked with how I liked “Let’s Plays” Before. Or just watching Kingdom Hearts cutscenes. The game characters are just so... _expressive._ More so in person. 

Never ceases to amaze, honestly. 

It’s...nice not to be alone. Not that I’m _really_ alone, with Naminé on my side. But she’s not _here._ Never in this strange room. 

Not like Axel is now. 

My weapon jerks out and up, bouncing the electric away. Oh, we’re at this part, are we? Soon the fight will begin. 

And I won’t be alone. Maybe I’ll break my record of eight minutes. Do some serious damage. Not that I can really tell when I do or not...

Oh no. Xemnas’ hands hum with electricity. The battle begins. _Now._ And Axel’s not moving. Just examining Xemnas critically. For some reason. 

“Get out of the way!”

I shove at Axel’s shoulder. Surprisingly, he actually moves with my pushing. Out of reach of the stupid electric zappys. 

I catch the tail end as a result, though, a shock running throughout my body. “Ow!”

Agh. Unpleasant. Ouch. 

“What!?”

“We need to beat him! Or have him beat us and I’m tired of getting my butt beat black and blue!” I scream, flipping back once more out of reach. 

“You’ve _done this before_!?”

“More fight, less talk!” 

Another barrier, another day...wait. I have an idea. 

“Can you give me a boost?”

His chakrams swirl about, all fiery and bright. Pretty, almost. 

“A boost.”

I gesture to his weapons. “I can whack him if I can get over the barrier. Push me up.”

And I start running. No stops. Head straight for Axel, his weapons out. 

“Wait!”

Too late. I jump. Right in his direction. He moves just where I want him. Or rather, just where I want his _chakrams._ I feel warm steel under my boots, hot enough to go through my thick soles. Pushing me up even further. Over Xemnas’s barrier.

I curve over it and _slam down._ With both boots and Soul Eater, right at that hooded head. 

The barrier falls and leaves a chance for Axel to follow up with a fiery attack of his own. Which he takes. Excellent. 

I go in for another hit, now that fake Xemnas is off balance. Which lands. Causing him to stagger. His cloak is on fire now, _actual physics_ at work here. 

Whoa, I’m actually _dealing damage._ What is this craziness? Awesome! 

Lightning balls now.... “Axel, get back!”

He, surprisingly, listens to me, ducking for cover as Xemnas sends out another flurry of electrical orbs. Boing boing they go. 

Dodge between them. Go for his face. My Darkness flares, adds some oomph to my next few hits. Xemnas almost catches me with ethereal blades in retaliation yet a gloved hand grabs my shoulder and pulls me out of range just in time. 

“Thanks!” I call out over my shoulder. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” He yells back, weapons swirling and churning red-hot fire. Awesome, a swear!

“Attacking,” I shoot back. “What’d you think?”

“You’re as bad as Roxas.”

“Huh?” Did he mean to mention Roxas? 

“Just...” he shakes his head. “I’ll take the lead with the attacks.”

“Alright,” I agree. He probably does more damage with his fire than I do with any of my hits. 

Frick, he’s shooting his lasers now. 

“Down!” I hit the ground and roll. I have no idea what Axel does. 

As for me, I roll until I reach Xemnas’ floating legs and go thwacking away. Until he knocks me back with another blue shockwave attack. 

Ouch. 

“Don’t do that!”

“You do it then!”

“I’m not doing that!”

“Fine! Keep firing!” I dodge another blade. Or two. Or maybe three attempt attacks. Man, I’m getting better at this dodging stuff. Almost like I can see them coming before they do...but that’s silly. Isn’t it?

More fire, more blade attacks. Little by little...

“He’s almost...down.” Axel yells, sounding shocked by the idea. As for my part, I’m amazed that he knows that. How does he know that?

Whatever. I’m going to trust him. 

“How are we gonna finish him?”

A sly grin. The first such expression that I’ve seen on Axel’s face. He spreads his arms out to the side, chakrams whirling faster and faster. 

Until they’re wheels of pure golden fire. A man between two wheels. An Axel. Heh. That’s funny. I’ll have to point that out at some later time. 

“You won’t forget this!” And the fire burns ever higher. Strikes Xemnas as he comes in for one last attack. 

And that fire does the trick. 

Xemnas’ middle almost explodes, with the same blue light as his barriers and electric attacks. Webs out from his chest as he backs away from us. Darkness leaks from him as well, thin as it may be. 

I put out a hand to stop Axel from making another attack. “Wait.”

But then Xemnas, with a very dramatic hand rips away the blue and dark of his form, returning to normal.

Uh...is there a phase two? I don’t remember. 

Wait. Wait. We’ll see. 

“Impressive.”

Oooh. That’s cool. 

“This will be enjoyable.”

...Uh. I quickly glance over at Axel, to see how he’s taking this. His face is still, stone still as he takes this all in. I have no idea what he’s thinking. 

Xemnas fizzles and becomes a see-through shadow once more. 

“It is beyond your comprehension, for now.”

That hooded head turns to face. I can see no face. Is there some kind of magic put into those coats so your face is hidden when you put the hood up? Wouldn’t be surprising. 

“Until we meet again.”

I really, really hope that’s just the memory. Because I have no desire to _actually_ ever meet Xemnas in person. I would be _dead_ dead. 

“I am-”

He fades. Completely gone. Leaves me and Axel alone in Hollow Bastion. 

“-but a mere shell.”

Oooh. I shiver. “Well, that’s done.” I look down and there’s...something on the ground. I go over to it, pick it up, as the Hollow Bastion room fades around us. Leaving us in a plain white Castle Oblivion floor room. 

Between the stairs and stuff, you know?

“What was _that?_ ” Axel bursts out, spreading his arms. 

“C’mon, I told you. One of Sora’s memories.”

“Sora faced the _Superior_.”

I shrug. “Looks like.”

“...That’s crazy.”

“But it happened.” I look at the item picked up off the floor, from the fight. It’s a card. Of course. A card with a yellow border and white-outlined shape of a key on it. 

_Key to Departure._

Huh. I tuck it away. I’ll ask Naminé about it.

*Are you okay? You’re not hurt this time.*

Hm. I hum. Don’t answer other than that. Don’t want to get Axel on my case for talking to myself. Or apparently talking to myself. 

“Hey, Axel.”

His head quickly turns to me. So fast it looks like it almost fell off doing so. “What?”

“Where are you going now?”

“...you’re not coming with me.”

Oh, look, he certainly picked up what I wanted super fast. Guess he’s considered a good assassin for good reason. 

“Can’t stop me.” I grin. 

“I can, actually.”

“But then you’ll never what that memory with your boss was all about...” Not that I’m really planning on telling him much, that would be a bit too risky. 

Another sharp look in my direction. 

“Fine.”

Whoa, really? I did not expect it to be that easy. I bounce on my feet with a bright smile. “Great! Thanks!”

A look of shock crosses his face briefly at that. Well, I guess they don’t really say thanks very much in the Organization...wonder how long it’s been since someone thanked him. 

“Where are we going then?” Ask a question, get more answers. Get more stuff to think about! Perfect. 

He shrugs and walks towards the door. “Into more Twilight Town, I guess.”

“Alright!” I cheer, hopping along behind him. He's so warm, if I keep close enough I can take in some of that heat...yay!

Man, now that the Room of Power’s been defeated, I don’t think I have to go there anymore. And that’s pretty great. No more surprise boss battles!

Fighting Xemnas...I guess all I really needed to beat him was the power of teamwork. Realy, really Kingdom Hearts-style, now that I think about it. 

Completely unexpected. How much has changed, now that Axel’s fought a memory-Xemnas? _Can_ anything change? Something like that never happened before!

Speaking of matches that never happened before in canon...I wonder what’s going with Riku and Larxene.

Um. 

I bet he’s fine. 

He has to be. 

* * *

“How dare _you_ -!” Larxene hisses, lightning running along the outside of her black coat. Her eyes seem brighter than before like Thunders are going to fly out of them. Her fingers claw at her arms as she falls back. 

“Tell me where Sora is,” Riku orders. Soul Eater is still out. Pointing at her, should she decide to try her luck against him again. She seems like the type to do that. 

Larxene shakes her head. Cackles. Seems to recover some or her strength as she sneers at him. Full of bad news. “Oh? You want to know where your _precious hero_ is? Don’t worry, you’ll see him real soon. And he won’t know _you..._ ”

“What are you doing to him?” Riku yells. What is going on here? First that scientist, then his replica (twice) and now her...what does the Organization want?

“Wouldn’t you _like_ to know!” Larxene disappears in a wisp of shadow. Gone before Riku has a chance to attack her once more. 

“Sora...” Sora’s in trouble. Not that Sora isn’t _ever_ not in trouble, but something’s _really_ wrong here. What did she mean by Sora “not knowing him”? It doesn’t sound like they’re going to kill him, but what’s happening...

“There are worse things than death,” Riku whispers to himself, shivering as he recalls his body moving without his direction. Of Ansem using his body to try and kill his friends. 

“I won’t let that happen to Sora!”

He...he wishes the King was here. Actually here, in person. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel so alone. 

“I need a way to Sora.” He’ll do his best, fight his way there if he has to. Riku steps to the door. As he does, he pulls out a card. Examines it. He’s never seen a card like this before...

Marked with a red heart. 

Labeled. 

“Door to Revenge.”

* * *

But maybe I should be more worried about me. I _am_ walking around with an assassin, after all. I don’t really think he’s going to kill me, but...never hurts to be careful. 

*You said you would be more careful. Walking around with an Organization member isn’t very careful.*

Huh. That voice in my head sounds a lot like Naminé...

Whatever. Focus on the assassin I’m following. 

And we haven’t hit any Heartless for a while. What’s with that? Hm. I side-glance at Axel. Well, I have been following him and using his cards, so it probably has to do with something he’s doing...hm. 

“Wait, how are you avoiding all the Heartless?” I ask. Eventually. After my curiosity becomes too much to bear. 

Axel pauses, midstep. Looks at me. “Wait, you haven’t been going for every Heartless room on _purpose?”_

“Well...” I scratch at my wrist, looking away sheepishly. “Yes and no? I mean, I fight them when I run into them.”

Axel does not seem impressed by my answer. 

“And here I thought Vexen would have shoved you full of all kinds of sensors.”

Sensors? Hm. That _does_ make sense. But how do I use them?

“How?” I ask him, flexing my hands. In Days, Axel spent a lot of time explaining stuff to Roxas and Xion. Surely he’ll be able to help me out here. 

Axel arches an eyebrow. Sort of. As much as he can manage it, anyhow. “You’re asking me?”

“Well,” I gesture around the room we’re in with a circular motion. “You’ve been around here longer than I have. You’ve got to know _something_ about how to check stuff out with magic.”

I _need_ more information on magic. Naminé could probably figure it out eventually, with the textbook, but I might have to be there in person to really get that info. Which I haven’t been around there, lately. Besides, I don’t know if I _can_ do it, the way the textbook says. I couldn’t do Fire how it said, after all. 

Does the textbook even talk about Scan?

“Please?” I try. 

There’s something unreadable about his expression as he looks at me. Closed off. 

What could he be thinking?

“Okay.”

Wait, he agreed? I hadn’t...really expected that. 

“Really?” I clap my hands. “That’s great. So...what do I do? How do I Scan?”

“Uh...” That unreadable expression falls away, into something a bit more...uncomfortable. His fingers tug at his hair. Oh, he doesn’t know, does he? Great. 

I don’t tap my foot against the ground. Really, I don’t! But I might...slightly be impatient? A little. Just a little. 

C’mon, I want to know!

“So, Scanning works like this...”

The explanation I get is a tiny bit confusing. 

Apparently I have to think really really hard. Focus on an enemy and search for weak points. It’s easier to figure out if you practice using it on something you already know the weaks spots to, like a Big Boi’s back or something. 

My words, not his. 

“Okay...so I wanna test it out. Any Heartless around here?”

Axel jerks his head towards the direction down the hall. “That way.”

“Sweet!” I cheer and rush forward.

“Hey, wait up!”

Oh, there we are. A nice Big Boi I can use for practice, not like it’ll be able to hurt me very much if I fail. 

“So I focus?”

“...Yeah.”

“You don’t sound very sure.”

“Look, I don’t spend all of my time babysitting.”

I snort. “Sure you don’t.”

He narrows his eyes at me as I focus on the Heartless. The Heartless that has not yet seen us coming, to drag us into battle room time. The back is weak, I know from experience, are there other points of interest?

My head hurts. 

“Am I doing this right? I don’t think I am.”

“Are you getting anything?”

“No.”

Then he folds his arms over his chest. “Then you’re not.”

“Great. Super helpful. Tell me how to do it again.” I grind my teeth as I get another unhelpful answer. 

“Look, I find it hard to believe you haven’t been using Scan with the way you throw yourself into a fights to hit one area in particular. Maybe you just don’t know you’re doing it.”

He seems satisfied by his reasoning. But I’m not. 

“But how do I _know_ I’m doing it?” I persist. I won’t let this guy get away without teaching me at least _one_ thing useful. 

“You just do?”

Huh. That didn’t sound very confident. 

“Are you _sure_ you know what you’re doing?”

“Look. Stop sassing me and attack that Heartless. You’ll see.”

“If you say so...” I go for, diving for the Big Boi. And it never sees me coming. 

Battle room hoi! Back to using cards!

“Don’t hit it right off the bat!” I hear a yell. Somehow. Fuzzy and muffled like he’s speaking through a screen or two. But I listen, drawing back. 

The Big Boi swings out one of its oversized arms. 

I...dodge back. 

But it... it hasn’t swung yet. 

“You got Scan all right!”

I finish off the Big Boi with a hit or two. Easy. I need answers. 

“What was that?” I demand, marching right up to Axel.

“That’s Scan. Moving before they hit. Hitting where they’re weak. You already have it active after all.” He seems somewhat relieved by the thought that he doesn’t _really_ have to teach me anything. Seriously? That’s...weird. 

“That’s it? I thought it would less...” Instinctive. 

Axel looks away, scratching at his head. “Look, that’s just how it works, got it memorized?”

“Sure.” 

Maybe I should ask Naminé about this, we might be able to figure something out about this Scanning thing. 

Naminé hasn’t been talking to me for a while. Guess she figured I can’t really talk to her while Axel’s around, not without giving something away. So she’s staying quiet. 

I feel kinda bad about that. Should make it up to her somehow. 

Maybe I can teach her Scan, once we figure out it together?

*Ow!* A flash. A pinch like someone just got their hand stuck in a door. And speak of the devil...or, er, Nobody?

“You okay?”

*Fine. Just...need to be more careful with Thunder magic.*

What is Naminé doing _now? Thunder_ magic? I bite at my lip. I hope she doesn’t seriously hurt herself, when I’m not there to help her. Not that I could do very much anyway, I don’t have any potions.

While I’m worrying about that, my physically present companion chooses to speak up. 

“I’m...fine?” Axel goggles at me. Clearly wondering why I would ask _him_ such a thing. Well, there isn’t really any way I can tell him I wasn’t talking to him, so...just roll with it, I guess?

“That’s good.”

“Huh.” Axel shakes his head. “You’re strange.”

“Well, normal would be dead now, so I’ll stick with strange, thanks,” I say, scratching at my neck. Fight the urge to look away from those intent, inhuman eyes. No wonder no one in the Organization never managed to really befriend any humans canonically, there’s just something about the Nobody that shakes me to the bone. 

Axel narrows his eyes at me, scratching at his hair. A nervous tick that seems to have come straight from the games. “Dead? You just would have your memories wiped.”

I laugh. A harsh sound, really, in the placid environment of Twilight Tow. “That’s the same as dead, almost. I wouldn’t be _me_ anymore, after all.”

My gloved finger reaches out and up to poke him in the chest. I’m so fricking short, after all. Hate that. “Wouldn’t you know, Mr. Got-it-memorized? Can’t live forever in someone’s memories if those memories are gone. You have an entirely new person then, even if they look the same as before.”

Axel stops. Out of nowhere too, I nearly run into him. “You should go find Naminé.” Quickens his pace and until he’s nearly out of sight. Goes around a corner, of this rather large room. 

“Wait!” I rush after him. “What did I say?”

*Maybe you should let him go.*

“I can’t do that, I have to see what’s wrong,” I argue back. 

I turn the corner, almost too fast, skidding in my boots. Dumb boots. 

He’s over by the door. What is he doing by the door? Squatting near the ground. There’s something in his hands. Pink and small. ...Flower petals? Where did those come from?

He looks over, his eyes bright. Fire bright. There’s the smell of smoke in the air. What?

What’s going on?

He’s in my face now. I flinch. When did he get so close?

“Sorry about this. But you shouldn’t have followed me.” The worst part is that his face looks actually contrite, as his gloved hand digs into my shoulder. 

“What are you doing?!”

Trying to get away...I can’t! There’s heat lancing into me whenever I try. Tearing through my concentration, ruining my attempts to run or even to Corridor. Useless. 

There’s a Corridor now, one he opened up with a wave of his free hand. My struggles are useless. It’s so Dark. 

He.

Moves over there. Not letting me go. 

He.

Drags me into the heavy pressure of the Dark after him. 

I don’t even get a chance to scream. 

* * *

The other side...I don’t have to see it to know where he’s taken me. The blast of cold air that somehow eats away the heat that Axel gives off is enough. Goosebumps up my spine, my teeth chattering. 

Dark, as always. Dark, but for glowing pink. A _familiar_ glowing pink. 

Nononono. 

(Stupid.)

Trying to step back only gets me backing up into Axel. Allowing his hands to dig even deeper into my shoulders, as he forcibly moves me ahead of him. 

Shoving me towards the tall blond man facing away from us, peering at a bright computer screen. 

Nononono. 

*Ruse! Are you okay?!* A voice that I cannot answer. My throat is closed up. If Axel wasn’t holding me up, I would have fallen to my knees already. 

“Hey, Vexen, I brought you something,” Axel calls out. Vexen turns. His smile is _terrible._ Too many sharp teeth. Almost as bright as his nuclear eyes. 

No. I can’t be here. I _can’t._

“Ah, my replica. Excellent.” Another gloved hand reaches out to grab me, the exact opposite of the heat Axel’s been pushing into me. Freezing, as cold as the Arctic. 

No. No. I _can’t._ Is my body shaking? I can’t tell. I’m too hypersentive to the new hand on me to pay attention to anything else. He pulls me forward and I do nothing to resist him. 

“Vexen, you owe me something now, remember?”

Words. Words that don’t make any sense. What does Vexen owe?

“Yes, yes. The tracker’s right over on the table. Not that I expect you to properly understand the genius behind such a device in the first place.”

Tracker? My ears still manage to catch that word. Though I don’t know what it means here...

“Look, I don’t have to understand it to use it, right?”

Vexen scoffs. “I suppose so. Go back to Number Eleven, leave me to my work.”

I’m tugged along. Why can’t I _move?_ Frozen, by the ice man’s hold on me. 

Is Axel gone? I don’t know. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. Why would it matter?

(He brought me here.)

Vexen pulls me over to an empty glass container. Like the one I woke up inside of when this entire mess first began. Presses at it and it opens. No. Nonono. 

Unfreeze just long enough to try to struggle again. Too late. I slip against the closed up tube. Slippery. Slick. No way out. Sealed tight. 

My hands bang against the glass. Vexen ignores that, and his eyes...why is he looking at me like that? A curious bug under the microscope. 

(Don’t look at me like that.)

(Please.)

“How dare those _imbeciles_ lose my work. Now I’ll have to determine exactly what went wrong in the programming...”

I unstick my tongue to spit out, “Nothing’s wrong with me!”

“You’re a prototype, of course there’s something wrong with you,” Vexen dismisses, somehow hearing me through the thick glass. I guess Nobody ears are sharper than normal ears. “Why wouldn’t there be?”

*Ruse, what’s going on?*

My heart burns. I can’t let this happen. They’ll...find Naminé, if I don’t get out of here, or something else bad will happen. 

“Let me go!”

His eyes seem brighter than ever, from behind this glass. Glowing with a light that not even Axel’s managed to match. Which is weird, shouldn’t fire be brighter than ice?

_Ice reflects. Ice makes a mirror._

...What?

“You have but one fate, Riku.” Vexen presses a button somewhere. I can hear the click. 

A cuh-thunk. A hiss. Then, slowly, at my feet, trickles a pink liquid. Womb Juice. The same pinkness that fills the tubes around me. What I woke up covered in. 

“What are you doing?!” I pound against my prison. 

“You’ll sleep until I have properly taken care of the damages. Your role here is done.”

Done. _No._

I won’t let him! Never! I’m not done!

My claws! My Dark Suit’s gloves sharpen into the points I used against Lexaeus, now to be turned against my prison. Which Vexen notices. Be hard not to, with the racket I’m making with my slashing. Only turns long enough to note my new weapons. 

“An excellent adaptation.”

My claws lengthen, almost in response to the words. I claw harder at my glass prison. Leaving only the barest of scratches. I can’t get out. 

Oh God. I can’t get out. 

The tube is getting fuller of the pink liquid. Slow but steady. It’s almost up to my knees now, thick and sloshy. Everything that’s under the surface feels numb. Warm and numb. Being put to sleep. A sleep that I don’t know if I'll ever wake up from. 

I’m screaming. When did I start screaming?

Well, it’s not really screaming. Not at the top of my lungs. More of a wail that’s slowly dying into a series of whimpers. There’s no one here who will help me. 

I’m alone. 

I want to curl up. But curling up means lowering myself into the liquid that numbs me and that would mean giving up. I can’t. I can’t give up. I need out. 

Why? Why is this happening?

I mean, what is Vexen thinking, doing this? He doesn’t need to put me to sleep, does he? He taught me things before without shutting me down.

He taught me...

Oh. 

He taught me how to Dark Corridor, didn’t he?

How to use that feeling in my stomach to move about from place to place. He’s armed me and he doesn’t even know it. 

An hysterical laugh escapes me. Hold on, Naminé, I’m coming. 

I pull at that feeling in my gut. I _want out_! 

“Those numbers...”

Out. Out. 

“What are you doing?!”

And the Darkness comes for me. I hear something, from my imprisoner, as it swallows me up. 

“Stop what you’re doing at once! It’s not sa-”

Not that it matters, what he’s saying. I’m out. I want Naminé. 

I want...

Darkness. 

* * *

The Darkness spits me out. Barely. Too much of that place chews away at me, filling with a hunger I cannot name and cannot fill. Hope that I will never end up filling, if it is what I think it is. Empty. Full of holes. Starving. 

Maybe one day I’ll go in there and never come back out. Like Aqua. A giggle escapes me at the thought. Me, anything like Aqua? Get real. _I’m_ barely real. 

Back in a familiar white room. I blink and blink, barely managing to focus on Naminé sitting over by the wall. Clutching the book to her chest. Nervous. High-strung. 

Afraid. Why is she afraid?

Her eyes widen and her face pales. Into paper. 

Huh. She looks like a paper doll. Like she’ll fly into the wind if I blow too hard. 

That’s funny. 

“Ruse!”

“Naminé!” I call back. I make to move towards her, but suddenly the ground seems so much less steady than it was before. Tripping over my still numb feet. 

I fall to my knees. Over the pounding in my ears, I can barely hear the pattering of Naminé’s shoes as she runs over to me. Hard to focus, to _breathe._

My entire body shakes. Shakes and shakes and shakes. A personalized earthquake.

Maybe I’m dying. Am I dying? I don’t know. 

I don’t want to die.

“You’re not going to die, Ruse. You’re not!”

Oh, did I say that out loud? Oops. 

I feel Naminé’s hand on my arm. Barely touching. I scoot closer, allowing her to be closer to me. Closer to an actual hug. 

I can’t hold back anymore. 

The tears come out fast and furious. Rushing, rushing. No stopping them now. 

“Na-Naminé...” I weep. 

“I...I’m sorry.” Her arms wrap around me for real. Warm, but not as warm as Axel was. But more comforting. Better. 

“Not...your...fault,” I manage to choke out, between the sobs. 

Not her fault, but mine. For trusting too much, too soon. 

_What have I done?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on mechanics:  
> For Somebodies, Scan is an actual spell you cast. For Nobodies, it's more of instinctive spider-sense situation that only gets activated in dangerous situations. For Heartless...no Scan, just sensing Hearts.  
> In this canon, for example, Roxas learns Scan by having Larxene throwing Thunders at him when he goes on mission with her, since in the Days game he gets Scan after his mission with Larxene. Xion never gets taught Scan by the Organization, she eventually figures it out and asks Roxas about it.  
> Do Replicas do Scan differently? Who knows... ;)
> 
> Also... *points at Unreliable Narrator tag* May I remind that our Hero does not know everything that's going on...


	7. Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our Hero's cracks start to show, a few Nobodies' thoughts are shown, and the countdown begins. Also, some song!

I’m crying and I can’t stop. Ashamed. 

Stupid. Stupid.

_Stupid._

“I hate myself,” I say. Out loud. “I’m so _dumb_!”

How could I trust him? I _knew_ he wasn’t trustworthy, not in Castle Oblivion. Why did I trust the Organization’s assassin?

Because I was thinking of _Days._ Stupid me. Dumb, dumb, dumb. Wasn’t careful enough, I’m _always_ like this. Careless at the worst of times. 

That’s how-

“No, you’re not.”

“But I am!” I wail, throwing out my arms in distress. Some back part of my brain notes that Naminé flinches but the rest of me is too caught up to despair to figure out what I’ve done wrong this time. “I _trusted_ him. And I knew I shouldn’t have, but I did anyway! He, he...he was going to- he left- I’m so stupid. I _hate this!”_

Hate me. The _actual_ Riku Replica wouldn’t have been so stupid to trust an Organization member. He would been wary enough, where I was not. 

I curl up, hacking and choking on my tears. Slimy slimy mucus rushing down my throat. Hard to breathe. Too easy to keep crying. My face rubs up against my legs.

My legs that are not my legs and my face that isn’t mine. Nothing is mine anymore, the way I remember it (don’t remember it).

Hate it. Hateithateithate.

“What was Axel going to do?” Naminé’s calm voice, carrying through. Drives me out of that awful spiral. 

I lift my tear-stained face, from my legs. “He would have _hurt you_ . Taken you back.” Shake my head. “And I _knew_ that! But I forgot, I can’t forget, I’m so stupid! He’s not nice yet.”

How could I forget? Yet somehow, I had. 

“What do you mean by not nice _yet_?”

Oh. Oh, yeah. That was a thing I said. I look at her, Naminé with her blonde hair, hair almost as light as her white dress, her deep blue eyes. 

She...she’s afraid. I know. Afraid that the Organization will get her back, force her to tinker with Sora’s memories again. She’s completely dependent on me as protection. The failure who nearly led Axel right to her. 

I owe this much. To tell her. 

And maybe. Maybe it would be nice, not to carry this secret alone. 

(Maybe I don’t have to be alone.)

My fingers swipe at my cheeks, brushing away the icky clots of snot. “I...I know things. Things I shouldn’t know. Like...”

What can I use, that Naminé would believe me? Because I desperately want her to believe me, where before this moment I would have stabbed myself to death long before considering telling anyone _any_ of the truth. 

Times change, I guess. Circumstances change. 

“That you’re Kairi’s Nobody. But you’re a Nobody that came from both Sora and Kairi, when Sora stabbed himself with a Keyblade. Along with another Nobody named Roxas.”

I sniffle, rubbing at my nose. “I know the Organization’s Somebody names. Well, most of them. I know stuff that I _shouldn’t know_.”

Naminé’s mouth is open. “That’s...how? How you knew about the Heartless Sora fought and everything else.” She breathes. Her eyes are wide and...I don’t know what she could possibly be feeling. I’ve never been very good at reading people. 

Before this mess. Maybe even in this mess. 

See exhibit A: Axel. A for Axel. 

“I guess...I woke up and I knew. Just there in my brain.”

“Does...anyone in the Organization know?”

I think back to how careful I was about keeping my mouth shut in front of the Organization, before I had run off with Naminé. But also about Axel’s too suspicious eyes. The knowledge I had alluded to having so casually, so carelessly the entire time. 

“Not for certain. Axel...might think that- scratch that, he definitely _knows_ something’s off about me. But I don’t think he’ll tell anyone.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s here to kill everyone here,” I whisper. Looking around carefully, even though there is no one around to hear. Only us two. Better to get in the habit of checking now, before I screw myself over later. “Clear it out, so his ally can get to the top. More power.”

“Everyone?” Naminé pales. Impossible as that seems, with how pale she already is. “Even...Sora? Us?” She wraps her fingers around each other. Taps them against her legs in her lap. 

“Um.” I think on that, scratching at my head. My fingers run through silver hair, chopping through the knots entangled there. “No, only the Organization members.”

But that had been Before, when it had been clear that Sora was no threat with his memories messed up as they were. Now...with us working to fix him and with Sora being so whole, Axel’s orders could possibly extend to Sora.

Sora, who would and could kill him. 

My hands shake as I pull them free of my ratty hair. My breathing picks up once more, my nose running. Building up for another big cry. 

“But now I’ve screwed it up! I don’t know if anything’s going to be the same now! It’s changed!”

“When did it change?” Naminé, asking all the reasonable questions here. Keeping me on track. As much as anyone can do that. 

“When I...grabbed you and ran,” I admit, twisting my skirt. My eyes lower. I can’t even look at her, I can’t! Look down at her feet, at the shadow she hasn’t got. 

“How did it change?” she asks steadily. She’s clever, she surely knows what would have happened if we hadn’t run off together. 

I still answer her, words tripping over my tangled tongue. “You would have changed my memory, made me a Riku copy. I would have fought Sora. Would have lost.”

“...oh.” A breath, really, more than a word. A realization. She knows, now. What will _that_ change? Too far now, there’s no going back. Not now, not ever. “What now?”

“...I don’t know.” I don’t know. I know a possibility, but that’s it. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s all possibilities, isn’t it? Can anyone really say they know the future?

Have knowledge enough to predict it, yes. But to truly know?

...Not me. 

“I’m glad you changed it.”

I blink at her. Tears still caught in my eyelashes, thick and sticky.

“What, why?”

There are _tears_ in her eyes now. As she meets mine. Tears that glow like crystals full of starlight. 

Oh no. I made her _cry?_ That’s the worst! How could I?

My hand rubs at my cheek. Gotta stop, gotta stop, if I stop, she won’t be crying. 

“I would have _made you forget_ , if you hadn’t. I wouldn’t know you!”

A pause, for breathe. For tears. 

“And I- I- we wouldn’t be friends. Not like this!”

_She’s right, you know._

Yes. Of course I know. A possibility, a game from another life, informed me so. Yet nothing’s quite hit as Naminé’s tearful confession, the two of us crying our hearts out on the pale ground. That game, that other life...things would be different, then. And I can’t say that what happens _now_ is better than that possible happy ending that game promised. 

But it’s better than what it could have been. And that will have to be enough. 

For now. 

Between the two of us, I wonder if we have cried enough to fill an ocean. An ocean that we could sail away on, maybe. Away from this place that has demanded so much from its current inhabitants. 

How does a place like this exist? Silly question, when the answer pops up right there in my brain. Aqua made it. But did she really? Knowledge can be so subjective sometimes.

Rustling of a bag. I look up to see Naminé dragging over the bags of snacks. I can’t help the smile that quirks the edges of my lips. 

Yeah. Food. That’ll be good. 

Get my mind off of my stupidity, distract myself just a little longer. Put a smile on my face, just keep smiling. Just keep going. 

Can’t think about this body, this stupidity of mine right now. Think about anything else, everything else. Pokemon, food, songs, games. _Anything_.

Just keep going. 

“Here, have an ape-ricot,” Naminé pronounces carefully, holding up a bag full of the fruits I called that. I nod to her as I accept the bag. 

I take one chunk out. Put it up to my lips. Lick it. Nibble it. There’s still salt on my lips, from my tears, so it adds a bit of salty flavor to the orange fruit. 

Huh. It really does taste like an apricot. 

* * *

As Ruse chews her way through the fruit, Naminé thinks. Pulls her knees up to her chest much like Ruse herself and ponders. Thinks her way through everything that’s happened to them and could happen to them. 

The Organization...is terrifying. Leaves her shivering at the thought of them finding her again, forcing her to hurt people again.

Because that’s what she was doing, changing Sora’s memories. Hurting him. 

Making him _not_ Sora, as Ruse would say. She had no idea that Ruse felt so strongly about memory-changing, before her talk with Axel that Naminé carefully observed.. Strong enough to make her run and take Naminé with her, when she had seemed so cooperative before. 

It does make sense, though, with what else she knows of her

Ruse hadn’t run from Vexen before that and Naminé, knowing what she does now, knows she could have. But she didn’t. Not until changing her memories became a threat. 

Naminé doesn’t...want to scare her like that. Ever again. So she needs to fix what’s she done. Make what’s gone wrong right. 

Selfish of her, to wish for Ruse to never meet Sora. She thinks they would get along, both bright and friendly. Unique. 

But...Sora makes friends with _everyone_. Would Ruse leave her behind, for someone who could be a better friend to her than Naminé ever could?

She...doesn’t know. 

It’s hard to determine.

But Ruse knows about Sora and still chose Naminé. Would it be different after meeting him in person? 

Naminé’s nails dig into her palms. Doesn’t draw any blood, of course. It doesn’t matter. She needs to fix Sora’s memories no matter what else might happen. 

If Ruse leaves her after that, well, it’s only what she deserves. Right?

Ruse is scared of the Organization too, even if she doesn’t really act like she is. 

The way she cries now reveals the truth. 

She’s afraid. They both are. And neither one of them is strong enough to truly break free of their chains. Trapped. They’ll kill Ruse if they get the chance, Marluxia and Larxene and maybe Axel too, for taking Naminé away. For freeing her. 

But they won’t kill her if Naminé tells them what Ruse knows. 

Naminé bites at her lip and looks away from Ruse, who’s carefully digging through the food right now. Eating with some enthusiasm, but nothing really real. Just a mask. 

Ruse would be...mad, if Naminé told. But Naminé feels (is there a better word than that? She has no heart, after all) deep in her gut, that to save Ruse’s life, she would tell that secret. The secret of the information Ruse holds inside her brain. 

And Marluxia, no matter how mad he was, or the others were, wouldn’t kill Ruse after that. Wouldn’t let anyone else kill her, not even Larxene. No, he would only trap her like Naminé was, use them both as tools. She rubs at her arms, in response to the idea. Almost a shiver. 

No. She couldn’t. But if she didn’t, Ruse would die. 

Oh. What could she could do?

But it won’t have to come to that. Not if Naminé finds Sora first, before _they_ do. 

Sora is strong enough, really strong. So Naminé will fix Sora and hopefully he’ll protect them. Protect them from the Organization and break their chains. For Ruse, Naminé will do this. 

(Even if it means losing Ruse’s friendship to Sora.)

She has a plan. For what to do about that. But she’ll wait for Ruse to get better first. Eat first. Her face still looks so red...

She can’t help but sigh. A little loudly. 

Dark blue eyes look over. “Mmph?” The sound that comes from Ruse is little muffled, due to her having her mouth full. 

Naminé only shakes her head and crawls over to the book she had left behind in her rush to Ruse’ side. Terra’s book with big words and ideas that Naminé has no hope of understanding, a book she’s only gotten about half-way through. Good thing Terra left a lot of notes in there, very helpful notes that explain spells in much smaller and easy to understand words. 

Well, maybe not _all_ Terra. There’s other handwriting in there too, much more tight and letters very close to each other compared to Terra’s looser and neater script. 

**_Terra, stop stealing my baking supplies!_ **

Who could that be? A friend, maybe? This Terra...Naminé traces the words, the letters. 

**_Don’t cast Blizzard while wet._ **

**_My socks got stuck on the ceiling. Too much push in Zero Gravity. Change ratio?_ **

**_Master said I should try some Earth spells. Balance out._ **

All sorts of things, not just about spells. A glimpse into someone’s life, much like her looking into Sora’s memories. But in a far more careful way, piecing together tiny glimpses that fail to explain everything. It’s...calming, in a way. 

A boy who lived somewhere called the Land of Departure. Who used a Keyblade, it looks like, much like Sora does now. Who had a friend and a Master. 

Who loved, who cared about so much. 

Left this book behind. 

Where could Terra be now? Naminé carefully turns the pages, to her favorite section so far. About Gravity magic, full of the most notes. Between him and this other person. Most she doesn’t understand, but all are filled with strong emotion. A strong friendship that surely never failed. 

He _cared_. What happened to him?

...She could ask Ruse. Ruse _might_ know, since she knows lots of things that she shouldn’t, and the fate of this Terra is definitely something she shouldn’t know. 

“Hey, Naminé?” The bags of food are closed and blue eyes meet her own with an air of expectation. Looks like Ruse’s done eating. 

“Hm?”

“What do you think this card means?” A card thrusts itself within Naminé’s field of vision. One of the Key cards that she recalls Sora fitting together to exit a floor, gold and blue and with a key outline on it. Like a Key of Beginning or a Key to Truth. Like the cards she had created for Ruse earlier, the Key to Revenge and the Key to Power. New. 

“Key to Departure.”

Departure. Like the _Land_ of Departure, the name of Terra’s homeworld in his book. Coincidence? Possible. But could this card be made into a World card, a Land of Departure World card? 

...That’s somewhere she would like to see. Like Destiny Islands. 

“Where did you get it?” 

Ruse tilts her head back and forth. “After defeating the memory in the Room of Power with Axel. The card was left behind.”

“You defeated it?” After so long...maybe it won’t come back and keep messing up the connection between her and Ruse. “That’s good.”

“Great, isn’t it?” Ruse beams. Too bright for the tears Naminé had just seen coming down her face. “So...” Ruse taps her fingers on the floor. 

“What about the Land of Departure?” Naminé blurts out. 

Ruse tilts her head again, this time in thought. “The Land of Departure...” she repeats. “Huh. I didn’t think of that. That might be it.”

Another grin. “I want to check it out!”

If that’s the case...

“I’ll go with you,” Naminé decides. 

Ruse, of course, protests. “But that’s not very safe! What if they catch you or something? They almost caught me!”

Which is a good point. But it’s not good to stay here either. 

“Ruse, they’re looking for me. What if they actually do find me? And you won’t be here.”

Ruse considers it, tapping at her chin. “You got a point there.”

“I _really_ want to see the Land of Departure.” Naminé rubs at the book in her lap. 

“...” Ruse’s eyes are watery, as she bites down on her lip. 

Is she going to cry again? Naminé leans toward her, about to say something. But Ruse sniffles up the tears and speaks first. 

“Fine. Sure. Let’s see if this Key to Departure will get us there.” A tentative smile. “I want to see it too.”

“Then let’s see it together,” Naminé says firmly. 

Ruse nods, holding out her hand. “Yeah. Let’s.”

Naminé carefully puts the book away, into her extra-space. Where the Organization’s weapons go and Ruse’s weapon and everything else. 

Stands and takes Ruse’s hand. 

Leaving this cold empty room behind them. 

* * *

Naminé has an excellent visual memory. Makes sense, the way she draws. Depend on a lot of memory for that, if she’s drawing directly from Sora’s memories and not making it all up as she goes. 

Good at directing me where to go, like she had done before through our heart-connection. Especially in a place that’s a total mess like Twilight Town. I’m sure the real deal is a lot easier to navigate. This place? Not so much. Yet somehow, Naminé always seems to know where to go. Which door to take. 

A true Navi-me. 

Especially with her glowing. Maybe she’s actually a fairy?

“You’re really good at this,” I say. 

I get a blush for my words. A bright glowing one, like the rest of her blushes. Throughout her entire body, not only in her cheeks, now that I’m really looking. But the brightest in her cheeks. 

Kinda interesting too, how she leaves faded imprints as she moves. Afterimages of light. Very strange. If she’s like this, I wonder what Roxas must be like? His element is Light, after all. Is he just like Naminé, bright and glowing?

Maybe even brighter. I don’t understand how anyone could say that Naminé fades into the background, because she clearly doesn’t. Not at all. Weirdos. 

The clouds are pretty. And somehow, I can now sense the Heartless around here. Feels like a pricking of my thumbs when I get too close. Since I don’t want to fight with Naminé around...

We go around. All the Big Bois, the Flybys, the Soldats. Everything. No matter how long it takes. Naminé doesn’t argue. I figure she wants to avoid Heartless as much as I do. 

Too bad we don’t have Pokemon around here. Be pretty handy to have a friendly monster willing to defend us. Or more specifically, Naminé. At least I’ve got a weapon. 

She really doesn’t have anything? Except magic that I can’t cast for some reason (boo!). 

So yeah, a Pokemon would be handy. 

Hm. 

They didn’t always use Pokemon in Pokemon world, though, huh. There was that girl named Lillie in Sun and Moon...who actually looks a lot like Naminé, now that I think about it. Blond and pale and dressed in white from head to toe...all that’s missing for Naminé is the wide-brimmed hat. 

Lillie walked around covered in Repels to protect herself from wild Pokemon. 

Is there some kind of Repel Naminé could use for wild Nobodies?

Huh...

No, wait. _Naminé’s_ a Nobody. That wouldn’t work. How about Heartless?

“Do you think there are any ways to scare off Heartless without a Keyblade?” I ask Naminé in a conversational tone. 

“I don’t know of any.”

“Hm. Okay. Maybe we can figure it out later.” 

I...don’t really know what to talk about. Feels a little awkward in this silence, but Naminé seems pretty content, so maybe it’s just me?

Okay. I can do this. Avoid Heartless and watch out for Naminé. We don’t have to talk. And if I think of something, or Naminé says something, we can do that. 

Yeah. That’s fine. 

It’s...nice. Actually. Calm. Peaceful. 

Itchy. Scratching at my wrists. Need to be doing something to distract me, stupid Dark Suit. Too dumb. 

I only realize I’m humming when I hear a soft voice start chiming in with the words of the tune I hum. 

“Simple and clean is the way that you’re making me feel...”

I pause. Turn to her. 

“Oh, you know that song too?”

Naminé shuffles her feet. “...From Sora’s memories.”

Not meeting my eyes. Like she’s expecting me to yell at her for violating Sora’s privacy. Which I’m not, by the way. Memory thing not totally great, but I’m not going to yell at her for it. For how she’s been manipulated. 

“That’s cool. We can sing together then!”

She smiles and it’s as bright as a full moon. Literally. I have to shield my eyes a bit from the unexpected flash of light. 

“Okay, on three?” I ask.

“On three,” she agrees. 

“Alright then. One, two, three- when you walk away~”

“You don’t hear me say!” Naminé follows. 

It’s fun. It’s great. Naminé isn’t too bad of a singer either. I’m not really sure for myself, this voice register is completely new for me, so I’m probably not doing great. But it’s fun, and that’s what matters. 

We finish it and then start again. Avoiding Heartless all the while. Good thing they don’t have ears, otherwise I’m sure we would have drawn some over. 

Eventually we make to the manor. The abandoned manor that so many bad things will happen in. Have possibly happened in. 

Just keep singing. Don’t think about it. 

“Oooh, baby, don’t go!”

“You’re singing,” a familiar voice states flatly. Nearly scaring me right out of my wits. 

Oh, hey! That’s someone new here. Standing right in front of the door, the manor. Well, sorta. I have seen him around before, had him tell me to buzz off before. 

Zexion. 

With his book out. Out, but not open. Watching me. And Naminé. 

Naminé shuffles behind me. Allowing me to shield her. 

All right. I can do that. 

...

Wait. I’ve never been good at escort missions! Oh man. I _really_ hope this won’t go downhill as fast as I’m pretty sure it will. 

“You here for something? Zexion?” I ask, carefully turning my body so it’s angled between Naminé and Zexion more fully. 

“Why you?” Zexion asks, his fingers tapping against his book’s spine and binding. 

I pull on the inside of my cheek, just enough to almost sink my teeth into the soft flesh of it. That question...pretty unexpected. Why me? Why me what? What could he mean by that? And he’s not attacking yet. 

Good. I can practically feel Naminé shaking behind me, though we’re not touching. Her heart is cold against mine, with our connection. Afraid. Keep him talking, then. That’s the plan. Buy time. 

“Sorry, you’ll have to explain. I don’t know ‘why me.’” is my reply. 

“Vexen,” Zexion almost snaps, like it should be obvious. I guess it should be, in a way. Vexen “made” me after all, loathe I am to admit it. To think about that far too familiar pink tube. Of course Zexion wants to talk about that. Things I don’t want to think about. 

Just my luck. 

He doesn’t pace. He stays perfectly still. Too still, for someone who should be alive and breathing. Just his fingers tapping against his book. Just his lips spitting out words. 

“You are a clear and complete failure. You have rebelled against the Organization at every turn, defied every order given to you.” His fingers flick slightly in Naminé’s direction. At her face peeking carefully around my left shoulder at him. But his eye stays on my face. “You have stalled out, _delayed_ our plans.”

He shakes his head, scattering his hair about. Enough for me to catch a glimpse of his _other_ eye, the eye that doesn’t really look like an eye, all spiraling and flashy flesh. 

“Yet he still wants you back. _Why?”_

Um. What? Is he saying that Vexen’s weirdness is _my fault?_

“I really don’t know the answer to that. Ask him.” I suggest.

“Your existence is extremely troublesome,” Zexion grits out. He taps harder at his book. With his entire hand, not just the tips of his fingers dancing back and forth. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. 

Um. Menacing? At least, that’s what he’s trying to be. Okay.

“Are you going to do something about that? Me being annoying?”

Naminé’s patting at my shoulder now for some reason. _Hard_ pats. Her heart buzzes where it touches mine in my chest. 

Zexion _glares_ at me. His eye is sharp. Cold. 

Me? I just fold my arms over my chest and raise an eyebrow. 

Try me. 

Let’s see what you got. 

* * *

This mission to Castle Oblivion was not supposed to be this complicated. 

Not even close to where it’s gone. 

Even watching over Roxas is not this complicated.

Axel fights back the urge to groan, settling for running his fingers through his hair. He would _really_ like to not be here right now. A nap sounds good, actually. 

But no naps. Not until his dirty work is done. And Marluxia’s world block is off, allowing everyone to travel off-world again. Leave Castle Oblivion. 

Had everything gone according to plan, it would have been so much simpler. 

Let Larxene tire herself out hunting a replica that somehow always stayed one step ahead. Get promise of a tracker to find Naminé out of Vexen, in exchange for the replica, pleasing both Vexen and Marluxia in the process.

Stay away from the replica, while pretending to hunt for it. Buy time until Sora inevitably ran into Larxene and Marluxia, and finished the two off for him. Have Riku do the same with the Nobodies in basement. 

Profit. And he wouldn’t even have to lift a finger. Just watch as the fireworks went off. 

But of course it didn’t go according to plan. The same thing that ruined Marluxia’s plotting had ruined Axel’s own: the replica. 

Of course. 

Saying words they shouldn’t know, knowing too much. What exactly _had_ Vexen put into his little project?

_“Can’t live forever in someone’s memories if those memories are gone.”_

Axel breathes out through his nose. 

What did it matter? That person was dead now, and to be honest, Axel wasn’t as sure as Saix (or the rest of the Organization) they could get what they had lost back. 

Also, Sora had _fought_ the Superior. He and the replica had fought that memory, _beat_ that memory. But Sora had done it first. Without losing multiple times, as the replica had alluded to on their own part.

No wonder Marluxia and Larxene wanted to control the Hero to their own ends. The power of a Keyblade... Could one day Roxas do the same? Fight the Superior and _win_?

No. Don’t think about that. Too dangerous. 

Larxene and Marluxia are busy fiddling with the tracker. Simple enough to figure out, despite Vexen’s tendencies to make things more complicated than they have to be. Something something only one of her kind, only Nobody of a Princess of Heart, makes it easier. Or something. 

The thing is beeping. Loud. _Obnoxious._

“According to the tracker...Naminé is _moving._ ”

Axel can’t help but twitch at that. He’d thought that the replica would kept Naminé in one place, just out of reach. But looks like that’s not the case. 

On the move, just like the replica. Tricky to track. 

Smart. 

Marluxia’s eyes _glow._ “Awfully clever of our rogue replica. But an attempt doomed to failure.”

The vines that have crawled up the walls, clear signs of Marluxia’s growing impatience, twitch and wiggle. Thorned and oversized. 

Axel...he’s not scared of plants. No way. Not in a million years. But he would like to set the entire place on fire, with Marluxia in it. Better that way. Quicker. 

His hands twist into fists, leather creaking. No. He has to wait. See what happens next. Follow orders. Take care of the traitors and leave no trace. 

“Axel, I trust that you know what you need to do,” Marluxia says, eyes attached to the tracker. To the orb still focused on Sora. 

Axel shakes his head, waves a hand. Looks away from Marluxia with all of the attitude he can muster. 

“Haven’t a clue, really. Maybe you could spell it out for me?”

“The replica is clearly a traitor to the Organization. Vexen as well for reaching out to it the way he has.”

Axel can see a cold smile on Marluxia’s face grow in the reflection of the orb. Before he turns all the way, back to the pink-haired Nobody. “You must eliminate the traitors.”

“No taking that back later.”

Axel disappears with his Corridor. His mind is racing. 

All he can think about...Vexen is easy. Who cares about Vexen? But the replica...he doesn’t care about them. Yet...that reminder...

_“After all, we’re friends now! Got it memorized.”_

_“Okay, Lea.” A smile._

No.

He’ll do his job and that’s it. Just a reminder. Just a piece of trash to sweep out of the way. Getting ready for the real deal. 

_You better be ready, Marluxia, when I come for you._

* * *

Okay. A fight. I can do that. I shouldn’t. Naminé’s standing right behind me and you’re not supposed to get into boss fights on escort missions. 

Yet I can’t seem to stop myself. From picking a fight. Something about Zexion just _rubs me the wrong way._

“If you’re fighting me...where’s the big guy gone?” I challenge. 

“Lexaeus is challenging your original at this moment. Nothing for you to worry about,” Zexion says snidely. 

“Um.” I scratch at my head. It might be a bit soon for this, but Lexeaus is fighting Riku _now_? Before Vexen’s dead? Um. That might change things, but...

“Maybe your buddy shouldn’t be doing that,” I suggest, “That is not going to end well for him, if I know Riku.”

Or rather, the rampant Heartless that’s somehow still inside of him. Egh. 

“He is not my buddy.” Whoa, out of everything in that statement, _that’s_ what he objects to? The buddy part?

“Dude. You need to chill.” I put my hands up, in an attempted soothing gesture. “It’s alright if you’re friends with him, you don’t have to pretend that you’re not.”

“I. Am. Not. Friends. With Lexaeus.” Zexion grinds out. “I am a Nobody!”

Um. Something’s glowing, through his curtain of hair. Rainbow swirly style. 

Holy crap. He’s _mad._ Why is he mad, I’m just calling Lexaeus his friend?

“Sure you aren’t,” I scoff. Just a bit. Not really. Well, maybe a lot. “And you don’t care about what Vexen thinks.”

“I. _Do Not.”_

The book’s glowing now too. Well, that’s not a good sign. 

Huh. 

Maybe this chat wasn’t a good idea, after all. 

“Ruse, you should stop talking now,” Naminé hisses in my ear. 

“Might be too late,” I whisper back, barely moving my lips. 

An explosive breath nearly takes off my ear. Whoa! Is Naminé... _mad_ at me? That’s an improvement. I’m kinda proud of her. 

But first, Zexion. The words fall off my lips before I even consider stopping them. 

“What are you going to do, then?” I ask. “Kill me to bug Vexen?”

Zexion lifts his chin. Flips open his glowing book. 

“I think _I shall.”_

Ooops. Frick. Naminé’s mumbling something at me but I can’t hear over the sound of Zexion’s bone-chilling laughter as he starts to float above the fake grass.

Well, _that’s_ unsettling. Worse than Vexen. But I guess I know where he gets it from. 

Vexen or Zexion? Um. Ask me later. 

The trees swirl. _Everything_ swirls. 

Vanishing into the dark-point of Castle Oblivion battles. Cue the Pokemon Rival music!

But the battlefield on the other side isn’t the manor grounds. It’s something else entirely. A place I know _too well._

Dark. Very dark. 

A cave, almost. Full of objects shaped like tree trunks. Glowing pink in the darkness. A computer screen, here and there. Very familiar. 

I _know this place._

Oh no. _No_.

That _jerk_. 

Now I’m _definitely_ going to have to kick his butt. 

Just for this. Just on principle. 

Shivers down my spine, my arms are shaking. Too cold. Too much. 

I have to focus. I let down my guard, I lose. 

I can’t afford to lose. 

And Naminé’s gone.

“Beans.”

Where did she go?

-

“Where am I?”

Still Oblivion but also somewhere different at the same time. 

Ruse isn’t here. And it’s blocky. Blocky as in she can see that floor has visible seams, many squares put together. And there are floating blocks of different colors, mostly black but of other colors too, stacking themselves on top of each other. 

What a strange place. 

What could it mean?

( _D_ aT **As** c _A_ p **_E_ **)

What?

There’s images of Zexion and Ruse. They’re fighting. Spending cards. 

Each card they use, Naminé can’t help but notice, takes over a cube. Makes it a certain color. Like their battle is about taking over this strange world. 

Ghosts. She can’t touch them and they can’t touch her. 

What can she do?

Naminé...doesn’t want to stand and watch. 

Not like this. 

-

I’m fighting Zexion and spoiler alert: it’s not going very well. 

Probably cuz I don’t know where Naminé is, and my glances around the arena for her do not help me to avoid his attacks. 

Thankfully, fighting all those times in the Room of Power has helped build up my pain tolerance. Every hit still aches but I’m not incapitated by the combined pain as I would have been before. 

Hurts. A lot hurts, right now. Gotta keep going, no matter what. Can’t stop now. 

In my brain and my body. I hate this place, this dark laboratory battleground. 

Causes my head to scream and everything seems to reaching out to grab me. Which it actually might be. Zexion does illusions, after all. 

Fuzzy. 

Why am I so _dumb?_

...I dunno. Might actually have to stop to think ahead, stop running from my anxiety.

Now _that’s_ a scary thought. 

A page slices open my face. Warm blood, I think, dripping down into my hair as I flip away from it. Actually manage a cartwheel, Aqua-style. Almost clip a tube as I go past it, though. Sucks. Really limited space to move here, with the dumb science tubes everywhere. 

Not to mention every time I brush one...

( _Fear-can’tescape-fear-terror)_

Yeah. No likey. 

Soul Eater’s out, but it’s more of a hindrance than an actual weapon at the moment. Especially with how Zexion’s fluttering pages keep pulling out my deck and scattering the cards everywhere!

“You should share your powers!”

Hate him. Well, not really. But it is annoying!

“You first!” I shout back. 

Is that a sneer I catch on his face?

“Well, of course!” He spreads his arms and his cards fly everywhere. Books scatter about and look...exactly like my Soul Eater cards still on the floor. 

“Well, I didn’t think this through.”

“Clearly,” Zexion bites out. 

He laughs as I reach for the closest card, only to flinch back at the green lightning it produces. “I feel so _bad_ for you.”

Well, that’s sarcasm all right. And there’s stupid cards all over the place!

Everything looks alike! And I can’t fight without my cards!

Frick. This.

-

In the space between Zexion and Ruse, there are flat shaded spots taking up the open squares. The card cubes, Naminé soon realizes after examining how the closest one has a number and shape on it. A Four and a sword. One of Ruse’s, she thinks. 

Zexion’s cards glow a bright green like the book he carries. The color of his magic. 

But Ruse, for some reason, keeps running into them. 

Shaking with shocks each time. 

Is Naminé seeing something she isn’t?

“I have to help.”

A white patch...there! Right next to Ruse.

She reaches out with one hand and...touches it. 

It glows green. 

The entire square.

It looks like...a card.

-

There’s a green card hopping across the floor! A card with...Naminé’s face on it?

“I get Friend cards too?”

I guess that explains where she went. In the cards, Goofy and Donald style. Wonder what it’s like? Have to ask afterwards. 

I make a dive for the card. Hit some of Zexion’s zappy fake cards in the process, but I grit my teeth and bear it. 

Can make it. 

Touch it, use the card.

And she’s here. As bright as a star.

-

Suddenly she’s not in that weird in-between space where everything is squares. 

She’s in a lab. Where Zexion is trying to hurt Ruse with a blade that looks just like Ruse’s own. 

What can she do?

She...doesn’t know. Cast a spell maybe? Naminé can do Fire, Ice, and little bit of Thunder...

(Too many memories of Larxene, that keep her flinching. Leaves her hands unsteady.)

Not many spells. 

Naminé...sweeps out her hands. 

The cards quiver, almost in response and before her eyes, everything looks like it should once more. Ruse’s cards like her own and Zexion’s cards like Zexion’s.

No illusions. Not anymore. 

“Curse you!” The enemy Nobody hisses.

Naminé narrows her eyes, but before she can do anything more, before _he_ can do anything to her, the strange cube-land whisks her away once more. 

-

Using the Friend cards, whenever they pop up, are _really_ helpful. 

Naminé shows up and sweeps away Zexion’s illusions. His attempts to smash my cards out of my deck. Very helpful. 

Kind of funny too how he’s visibly getting more and more frustrated with each time she shows up. Ha! He deserves it. 

In my deck, now that I’ve gathered the cards up again to flip through...there’s a new card there. Nothing I’ve put there before. 

A _gray_ card. With a dark-cloaked figure on it. 

_Xemnas_. Memory-Xemnas. A Monster Card? Or was that Enemy Card?

“Here we go!” Use it! Smash down!

Used! I frown. Nothing. Hm? What?

As I’m distracted, Zexion flips his book’s pages and more pages fly out to hit me in the face multiple times. 

I get hit with the first, the second. Already wincing, preparing to get hit by the rest-

And a glowing blue barrier pops up to catch the rest of the pages. 

Zexion’s eye widens. “What is this!?”

So _that’s_ what it does. Cool. Thank you Xemnas. 

Gives me air to breath as I dive forward once more. Soul Eater, packed full of cards to the brim, swings again and again and again. A regular Card Duel there.

Slice, slice, slice. 

No blood. But the attacks do seem to hurt Zexion. Driving him back. The paper pages of his book, torn and ragged. 

Zexion hargles at me. Well, that’s the best way I can describe the sound he makes. It’s a hissing-gurgling noise, like a vicious sea monster spitting acid. Or something like that. 

His fingers are longer now. Too long. More like a boneclaw’s fingers. Something wrong with his joints as he moves towards me. Bending all the wrong ways. 

The spot under his hair is glowing bright blue. 

A pale skeletal monster in the middle of a freakin’ mad scientist lab. 

_Terrifying._

And then I blink. It’s gone. 

There is only a human-looking Zexion standing there. Shaking on his feet. Wavering. 

“What...? Have I...?”

Zexion falls to his knees. 

-

Around Naminé, the block-world fades. Becomes more like the room it’s overlaying. 

She steps forward. To Ruse’s side. 

Standing there, as everything collapse fully. Releasing her to that spot. 

She’s there now.

For real. 

As Zexion falls. 

* * *

“You’re finished!” A boy’s voice cries out. 

“Don’t mock me!” 

A thwack, as a small body hits the ceiling and then the ground. 

Heavy limping. An axe, ready to come down. 

“You were too much trouble.”

The temperature in the room drops abruptly. What was light suddenly goes very, very dark. That same boy, tugging himself on his knees as if directed by some puppeteer’s strings. Jerking up into motion while blue gem eyes watch in complete shock. 

A hiss. A slash. Another thump, this time of a heavy weapon falling. 

“ _Too slow_ ,” another deeper voice speaks. Much too deep for the small body it exits. 

Hissing of shadows, the sound of Nobody’s will finally failing. A body falling apart. Rocks crumbling, breaking apart. 

“You are the Superior’s...?”

A wisp of breath, escaping a corpse. 

“Forgive me, Zexion, Vexen. This is a fight I should have not started...”

Gone. 

* * *

The battleground fades away into the big house and the trees. 

Zexion is hunched over. Still on his knees. Panting for breath. His book even looks _limp_ , from it lays next to him on the ground. Like the pages are going to all fall out. Soggy. 

I point my sword at him. “You done now?”

Naminé’s next to me again. I manage not to jump at the realization, only accepting her presence with a firm nod. 

Zexion’s shoulders twitch. Not very noticeable, I can only tell because I’m paying pretty close attention. His eye flickers over to Naminé, right by my shoulder. His lips tighten in response to the sight. 

Like he just noticed she’s here. What?

He opens his mouth, about to say something. But doesn’t.

I frown, about to step forward. Let Soul Eater disappear. Is something wrong?

Zexion stiffens. Even stiffer than he already was, impossibly. “Lexaeus.”

“What?”

Darkness comes up around him and he is gone in a blink of an eye. 

“Okay...?” Wait. “Oh no.”

“What is it?” Naminé asks me.

I look back at her solemnly. “Lexaeus is probably dead now.”

“Oh.” Naminé puts her hand over her mouth. “Do you know...?”

I look up at the ceiling. Trying not to meet her eyes. “Probably Riku. Or the monster that’s inside Riku, right now.”

“But Riku’ll be okay!” I quickly add, when I see Naminé about to question me on that phrasing. He has to be. He’s got Mickey, right? He’ll be fine. 

We should keep moving. There’s nothing we can do for Lexaeus now. Gone forever. But not. Death is strange in Kingdom Hearts. But him coming back doesn’t change he died in the first place. Afraid, probably.

Definitely dead now, whether he comes back or not. And though I know he probably would have moved on to killing me, once he finished off Riku...the thought of his death hurts a little. 

Yet comforting at the same time. Riku’s not dead. I’m not dead. Naminé’s not dead. We’re alive. And that’s the best I can hope for, right now. 

“Well, we’re alive. That’s good,” Naminé says, inadvertently echoing my thoughts. 

I look away from the ceiling, to her again. I nod. “Yeah. That’s good.”

And the door. Go through the door now that Zexion’s gone. 

On the other side, familiar whiteness. Walk through, Naminé close behind. Oh! A Save Point! I quickly step on it and sigh with relief as it washes away my wounds.

Naminé doesn’t follow me but she examines the green circle about my feet curiously. Until I step off again. 

I look to her. “Ready?” Point to the far door. 

She nods. Determined. “Yes.”

Walk to it, pull out a card. What World lies ahead?

Hm. Blue waters, green palm-y tree, white sands...

Oh. 

“Destiny Islands.”

Well. Isn’t that something?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canonical Enemy Card for Xemnas in Re:Chain of Memories used here, with Quick Barrier being its ability!
> 
> Hmm. Lexaeus is gone... six more canonical deaths to go...


	8. Reignite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our Hero's spirit animal is Wolverine, Riku fights the Darkness, and Sora finally shows up. 
> 
> Also: Destiny isn't denied. It merely takes a half step to the right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa! I'm on fire! Take this humble offering before Re:Mind comes out! Also, if you think I need to tag for something, let me know and I'll add it!

“Destiny Islands!” Sora cheers. This room is nothing like home, of course, but it’s not too bad for really big illusion. Got that bright sunlight, blue sky, and the rest of the play island’s trees and sand. 

“So this is what your home looks like...” Goofy looks around curiously. Scratches his head. “Haven’t we seen it before?”

Donald shakes his head. “If we’ve seen it before, then we would have remembered!”

“Maybe if we play through my memories here, we’ll be able to figure out where Naminé went,” Sora proposes, putting his hands behind his head as he leans back on his feet. 

Goofy nods. “That sounds like a good idea.”

“Sure, why not?” Donald asks. He taps his staff against the ground. Sinking into the soft sands. “Let’s get to it!” 

Sora grins. Something itches at the back of his mind, but he ignores it. It can’t be anything _too_ important. 

“And maybe we’ll find Riku here too, with the King. There’s sure to be something here.”

Everywhere else they had gone in Castle Oblivion had revealed a lost piece of memory and his home would too! It only made sense. 

He can’t wait!

* * *

Destiny Islands is...bright. _Really_ bright. 

Now there’s no tropical heat, which really breaks the illusion, just the same usual chilliness of Castle Oblivion. But I can’t hope to imagine how hot this island would be in the summer, those white sands and the clearly rainiforesty plants cropping up a bit past the tide line. 

Sounds _terrible._ I probably would be fine, thinking on it, once I got used to the heat. Better than cold, anyway, and everywhere here is so very cold. 

Naminé perks up right away, running over to examine the sand. Kicking at it, shuffling at it, somehow making little particles of sand fly about everywhere.

Whoa. This illusion is very thorough. Impressive, really. 

“Why is it so...real here?” I ask out loud, shielding my eyes as I look up into the blue, blue sky. 

“Because this is where most of Sora’s memories are from. There’s more that he remembers, which makes it more real,” Naminé answers, as she kneels down to look at some shell or another. 

“That’s...huh.” 

I frown, scratch at my chin. Recall the heavy detail of Twilight Town, almost as good as this place. “If that’s the case...why’s Twilight Town the same way? Sora’s never been _there,_ even if his Nobody has.”

“Oh. Um, that...” I glance over to Naminé who’s looking away from me, rubbing her hands together in her lap. She smiles weakly. “Those memories aren’t Sora’s. That Twilight Town’s from the Organization members, since they’ve all been there lots of times.”

I blink. What? And I laugh, nearly doubling over from the force of my laughter’s sudden escape. Oh. My. Gosh! I can’t believe it! Naminé had taken memories right from the high and mighty Organization and they _hadn’t noticed anything wrong!_

I might start crying, actually, this is too funny. 

Soon enough, I’m wiping away tears. Tears from the high emotions, from me laughing and laughing. Clearing my eyes enough to see Naminé’s smile has grown more real, in response to my laughter. 

“That’s great! And you told them you took the memories from the connection between Roxas and Sora, right?”

“Yes.” She shrugs, ever so slightly. “They believed me, since they thought I was too scared to do anything against them.”

For once, tact kicks in and I don’t say what I’m thinking: but you _were_ too scared. Because she knows that and I don’t need to be rubbing salt in the wounds. She’s not an enemy, after all. Deserves better than me hurting her, dragging her around. 

Enough on that. Since we’re talking about tricking the Organization...a glimmer of hope sprouts in my gut. What if...there’s another way out? A way without killing anyone?

Tricking and messing with the Organization...I like the sound of that. 

_You would, wouldn’t you? You’re a ‘ruse,’ after all._

“Hey, Naminé, what else do you remember about the Organization as they are right now?”

Naminé looks up, surprised. “Don’t you know?”

I grin sheepishly, reaching up to pull at my ratty hair. “Uh, the details escape me. Besides, two minds are better than one!”

Naminé hums, leaning on her hands put behind her on the sand. “That’s true. Um. I-”

She bites her lip. “I don’t know what to start with.”

“Um, can they control the Castle at all?” I didn’t think so, though Marluxia had heavily implied such in his tutorial at the start of the game. Yet later game events had revealed his words to be mostly nonsense. Nonsense meant to confuse Sora and possibly make him an easier target for memory manipulation. 

Also, if they could control the Castle, couldn’t they have caught two pre-teens by now?

But still got to check. Need more info on this world that was so similar yet so different from the game I knew. The difference between 2D and 3D. More depth. 

Naminé chews at her lip. “Marluxia can just a little. But no one else can.”

Alright, that’s good. 

“Um. You know anything about Mar-” I see Naminé’s face, her pale, pale face. “You know what, I think I know enough, I’m good.”

But just in case...

“You know, if you get caught by them, Larxene and Marluxia...”

“Don’t worry, you won’t let me get caught,” Naminé says with complete confidence. 

“Yeah. Of course I won’t. But in case we run into them, I think...” I scratch at my ear. “Marluxia does plants, so fire’s probably good against the plants. And Larxene is Thunder, so water or ice against her.”

“I thought Thunder was strong against Water?” Naminé poses, looking confused by my thoughts. 

“If you’re wet, good against you. If _she’s_ wet...” I shrug. “Should short her out for a bit.”

“Really?”

“Pretty sure. Doesn’t hurt to buy time.”

That’s how it went in Spider-Man comics anyway, Spider-Man always getting Electro with a water hose and rubber. Should work if that’s right, which I’m pretty sure it is. 

Now that I’ve passed on that...

Turn around to look at the sea. Take everything in. 

Wonder if I went deeper into the water, if there would be an ocean waiting for me to go under? Hm. Or would it be like one of those out-of-zone game glitches, where you end up speedrunning your way straight into the boss’ face while the credits are rolling?

Hm. Rather not try it. Hate to see what a real life game glitch would be like, might actually kill me. That would suck. 

So. No water. But maybe water later?

I put my hands on my hips. “When we come here for real, we gotta try swimming,” I decide. 

Naminé gapes at me. “For real?”

“Yeah, ‘course. You said you wanted to come here, right? Let’s do it for real, once this mess is over.”

My heart feels like it’s about to burst, full of rainbows and butterflies and other happy stuff. Naminé’s connection feels so very warm. The warmest I’ve been for a while. I can’t help but grin my widest at the feeling. 

This is great. I can’t wait until the Organization is gone, so I can feel this happy some more. That would be nice. 

Explore Destiny Islands, anywhere else we want to go...and maybe the Land of Departure too, wouldn’t that be cool?

“Hm, we need to figure out this Key of Departure card too.”

Naminé holds out a hand. I promptly dig the card out of my belt and hand it over. 

She holds it up. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t glow or do anything special. Just a card. A card in place full of magic cards. Okay, maybe it is a little surprising Key of Departure doesn’t do anything. 

I eye it suspiciously. 

“I think we’ll have to go to a specific location to activate it,” Naminé says, after a little further examination. 

I nod. “All right. That makes sense. Where do you think that is?”

“Hm. I don’t know...” Naminé ponders, tapping the card against her cheek. She moves to hand it back to me, but I shake my head. 

“Nah, you hold onto it. You’ll probably figure out it sooner than I would.”

“You sure?” Bright eyes, bright like stars. 

“Course.”

She smiles and tucks the card away...somewhere. Speaking of, where does she keep anything? She doesn’t have any pockets. 

And- rowr. 

Naminé’s head turns to me right away, eyes wide. “What was that!?”

“Erm.” I poke at the offending body part. My gut. “Don’t worry. Just my stomach.”

Hm. I’m feeling a bit hungry. My stomach rumbles some more. Guess my body finally caught onto my fight with Zexion. Need food now. 

I dig in my belt, pulling out the reminder of my granola bars. Dry and nasty. I would like some fruit now, please. 

...Where is the fruit again?

I pat my sides, my pouches. No fruit. Nothing but dusty granola bars. 

Oh no! We couldn’t have! But we did.

“Naminé!”

Naminé whirls around again, surprisingly quick. “What!”

“We left the rest of the snacks behind!”

* * *

The man once known as Ansem the Wise, now currently going by the moniker DiZ, is not sure exactly why his stash of food looks like a pack of raccoons went through it. There shouldn’t even _be_ any raccoons on this world. 

At least there isn’t any piss or droppings in this mess. 

He drops one of shredded cans to the ground with a clatter. 

“What exactly happened here?”

Not that DiZ expects an answer anytime soon. Some things will have to remain a mystery. As long as the mysterious raider does not return. 

Whoever they may be. 

“I suppose...” He glances around the disaster. “I will have to forego the meal for now.”

He doesn't need food right now. Not with so much work to be done. No matter what his body says. 

Return to his work, in the other room. Back to his computers, his work to finally get his hard-earned revenge. 

The data here is so fluid, incredibly easy to work. Like the formatting of his old workplace at...his home world. 

Like Tron. Alive and moving. Almost like something watching him, even as he uses its codes and programs to watch others. 

But this world...how could it be like this? Surely it must be something his former apprentices put together. And he knows their skills, none of them could program an A.I. 

No. He must be imagining it. 

Now, back to his observations of all who currently wander these halls. He glances for a brief moment at Sora with his companions, at the Nobodies plotting far above. 

Lingers a little longer on the replica, who has at last entered the World Floors with Naminé herself. The witch that is key to all of this. Curious, how the replica sought to take her for its own, despite its Organization connections. But what does it matter? Only a replica, not the original who DiZ will need for his plan to succeed. To kill those who had betrayed him and left him to the Dark once and for all. 

His eyes turn to the screen with the boy in question. 

To Riku, who has fallen prey to his Darkness. Enough to kill one of the traitors, but he hasn’t yet escaped it.

DiZ frowns. Something is wrong. Something must be done. 

He still needs the boy, to help retrieve Sora and Naminé. To finish off the rest of the Organization still here in Castle Oblivion. 

(To make things _right_.)

* * *

  
  


“Ansem!”

Riku floats. With no support under his feet. In complete darkness. 

It’s so very dark. Foul. _Ansem’s_ familiar stink, the smell of rotting fish. The Heartless’ laughter echoes everywhere.

“You called out my name.”

The voice seems to get closer, louder, though Riku frantically whips his head around, he can see the Heartless nowhere. 

“You have been thinking about me. You’re afraid of the Darkness I command.”

A breath, almost right in Riku’s ear. He nearly screams, but bites back the sound of terror just in time. He can’t let Ansem know he’s afraid. Even if the Heartless already knows. He can’t. 

“Good...”

Darker still, if that’s possible. Hungry. Swells with a feeling deep in Riku’s chest that reminds him only too well of the Realm of Darkness. 

“The more you think of me, the closer my return draws.” The voice seems pleased by the idea. Riku wants to squeeze his eyes shut, chant “it’s not real, it’s not real,” like he did after waking from a nightmare as a kid. But this is no nightmare and he’s no kid. No, everything is _real._

Gold eyes, bright in the darkness. Right there in front of him!

“And when I awaken, I will take hold...”

Purple swirling about those eyes. Ansem appears and he’s every inch as awful and terrible as Riku remembers him. 

Ansem’s voice, his hissing, mocking whisper, becomes a roar. 

“Your heart will be mine!”

A white gloved hand reaches out to grab Riku by the straps of his shirt. To pull him closer. To keep him from escaping. 

(To consume him. Body and soul.)

“Ah!” Riku puts up his hands. He already knows it’s useless, but still he tries. 

Then, there’s _light._ Bright and flashing, yet warm and familiar. Driving Ansem back with its pure power and force. 

“Riku, fight! Don’t let him win!”

Riku gasps. “Your Majesty!?”

The surrounding Dark has an unbearable weight to it now. Ansem may have drawn back, but he’s still there. His eyes are bright, in contrary to the Dark power the Heartless values so much. 

“You meddlesome king!” Ansem roars, his power flaring and snapping. “You will not interfere! The boy is mine!”

The stink grows stronger. But not for long. 

Mickey’s light somehow grows even brighter. Taking a shape. The shape of the King himself. Still ghostly, but floating there, arms stretched out, in Ansem’s way. Protecting Riku from the Heartless. 

“You’re not getting your hands on him!”

Ansem’s shape wavers and for a second, Riku almost sees something much, much bigger. Snarling with a mouth far too wide and big. Devouring. 

“You will regret this!”

A flash of light. 

No more Darkness. No more stink. No more floating. 

Just him...laying there. Heavy. 

Empty. 

* * *

We’re still wandering around Destiny Islands. Naminé refuses to tell me where we’re going, at least until I apologize for scaring her about the food. 

Which, first of all, rude. Food is _super_ important. 

Need food to chase away the Darkness hangrys and thus resist the urge to conquer all worlds, thrusting them into eternal Darkness. And other bad stuff. 

...I have not yet confirmed a link between megalomania and being hangry but I would not be surprised to find out that the connection exists. 

Speaking of not knowing where we’re going, the doors in this place are really weird. Not really doors at all, they look like empty wooden frames. At least until you walk up to one, and touch that empty space. Then the empty space would reveal itself not to be so empty, to be another Castle Oblivion door. 

Until then, though, the wooden frame would be empty. Almost blending into the background of the island’s random wreckage littered about everywhere. If not for Naminé making an instant beeline for the doors of each new room, I think I probably would have spent hours looking for a single door. 

...Wonder if that’s a metaphor for something. 

Along with the granola bars I’ve been going through like there’s no tomorrow. I eat and eat yet it fails to put a dent in my hungry gut. Which is weird. I haven’t used any Darkness since my Escape from Vexen Mark II, but it still feels like I’m constantly using it anyway. Leaving me _starving._

Did I screw myself up somehow? ...I hope not, I don’t really have a way to fix it If I have. 

“So, do you think we’re going to run into Sora soon?”

Naminé frowns, her forehead wrinkling. “I think so.”

“That’s good.”

We can get this mess cleaned up then. Unless...

“We don’t need the notebook, right?”

I mean, that was part of the reason I fought all those Heartless, to build up enough strength to grab the sketchbook back. Kinda weird that I didn’t need to do that. 

“For right now. I might need it later.”

All right. We can do that. That’s good. 

Step by step. First, Sora. Then, maybe the sketchbook. Organization? We’ll figure it out. 

“Okay, that door then?”

Naminé glances over. Nods. “Yes.”

“Okay.”

I step forward. Towards the door. But not any closer. Don’t get a chance to. 

Something _opens._ Right before my feet. 

Vortex of black, black Darkness. 

I flinch. Take an instant step back. Make sure Naminé is behind me, that I’m between her and whatever’s going to come out. 

I bite my lip. Dig my teeth in until I’m tasting salt. 

The Nobody that exists the open void...has blond hair. Green eyes. Also notably female. 

Not hard to know who it is, after all of that. 

Why is it always _Larxene_? Please, universe, can’t you cut me a break every once in a while? Instead of a Larxene?

...No? Fine. I’ll deal with this. 

I stride forward. Don’t summon Soul Eater, not yet. My deck is wiggling by my hip, way too eager to be used. Not yet. 

But Naminé speaks up first. 

“No! You’re not getting us. Not her, not me!” 

Larxene looks me over, her knives out in her hands. Breathes out a put-upon sigh as she twirls the blades between fingers. 

“Oh, is the witch talking now? Shut up. All you’re useful for is being _a tool._ ”

Naminé shrinks back. Me? I puff up. Pull out my weapon. “Don’t talk to her like that!”

Thunder crackles to life. Smells strongly of ozone, of burned french fries, and a dozen other strange things. 

...Mmmm. French fries. 

“Back. Off.”

Larxene sneers. “You going to make me?”

“Yeah. Sure. Why not?”

Can’t really run now, not with Naminé at my back. But Naminé’s tugging at me. 

Crying out, “You can’t!”

“There’s nowhere to run!” I shout back, adjusting my stance to be further in front of her. 

“That’s right, nowhere to run, you little rats!”

Shut up, Larxene. 

I swipe at her. She easily dodges. Alright. Time to get my deck out. 

But Larxene...doesn’t fight?

What? 

No, she- of course.

She’s going for _Naminé._ Why fight, when her target’s right here?

I’m not fast enough. 

_No_.

Gloved hands grab Naminé’s shoulder. 

Naminé cries out, reaching out for me. 

I reach back. 

Too late. 

Dark reaches up and swallows them whole. Leaving only Larxene’s cackling in their wake. “Have fun with Axel, puppet!”

No. I nearly fall to my knees. Force myself to stay standing instead. 

I can’t stop. I have to _get her._

_“Don’t worry, you won’t let me get caught.”_

Fricking failure. How could I?

She _trusted_ me. 

“Riku?” Different voice. One I’ve heard before, a thousand times, but never in person. 

Oh. I wasn’t expecting that. 

Oh. That’s...Sora. Sora, Donald, and Goofy. Just come through to door to see my failure. 

Why couldn’t they have come sooner?

Frick. 

Frickfrickfrick. 

_Failure._

No. _No._

I sniffle back my tears. 

“I have to find her!”

“Find who?” Goofy pips up with. 

“Naminé!”

I don’t even know where that Dark Corridor went! I need to figure that out and find her as soon as possible!

“Naminé?” Sora perks up at that. “Like the girl that left the islands? Oh, I remember now, Naminé drew all the time! And she-”

I can’t help but stare at him in a stupified silence, as he prattles on about a girl he’s never met but is sure he knows so very much about. 

Oh. Oh no. It still happened anyway, the memory loss? Well, makes sense, thinking about the situation. Naminé had started the process before I, ahem, liberated her and myself. He had already lost memories before I entered the picture. 

I guess the real shock here is that Sora is still fixated on Naminé, like in canon CoM, despite everything that’s happened. Seems like that “fix” happened before we ran for it. Hm. I...don’t like it. 

Maybe it would be annoying to hear Sora talk about Riku and Kairi all the time. But at least it would be _real._ Not like this. 

Kinda awful, really, to think of that loyalty stolen and hammered into pure, baseless devotion. A leash on which the Keyblade Hero may be chained, to kill as the Thunder-Flower Pair demanded. Sickening, making my gut burn at the thought. 

Ugh. I want to puke. For multiple reasons. 

Who knew Sora would be _so annoying_?

I interrupt _yet another_ spiel about how awesome Naminé was on the islands. 

“Shut up. You don’t even _know_ her.”

Sora puffs up at that. As does Donald. But Sora yells first. 

“But I knew her once!”

I resist rolling my eyes, turning my back on him. “Never did,” I mutter under my breath. I raise my voice, just a bit. “C’mon, we need to get out of here.”

Before other Nobodies come out to kill me. Or Sora. But probably me. Not to sound self-centered or anything, but I’m pretty sure I have several Organization members out for my blood _personally_. While Sora does not. 

I have no doubt that Sora will not eventually gain that distinction as well. Yet right now, I’ve got Vexen and Zexion on my tail. Larxene, but that might not count, as she appears to _hate everyone_ , and Axel, if Larxene was not just taunting me. 

Yeah. That’s fun. 

So, keep moving. 

With the duck giving me the evil eye and Goofy (he’s a dog...right?) shaking his head in disappointment. What an odd experience, to have Disney characters be upset with you. Hm. Weird. 

Weirder than running into Mickey Mouse, almost. At least everyone’s wearing clothes. 

Even if Donald isn’t wearing pants. 

...I don’t think any of the Disney ducks wear pants, actually. 

I should not be thinking about this. About wearing of pants or the lack of. 

“Screw pants.”

Wait. I said that out loud. 

“Is that why you wear a skirt now, Riku?” Sora asks very seriously. “Because you hate pants?”

Why. Why does the universe hate me? Sora seems so much younger than Naminé, but I guess it’s the trauma that makes her seem older. 

...

Aw. I made myself sad. But moving on!

“First, I didn’t choose the skirt.” I gesture to the stupid stiff material that always insists on sticking to my butt. “It came with the outfit and I have no idea who came up with _that_ idea.”

Nomura, of course. In a world where Kingdom Hearts was just a video game. In this universe where this is all very real? Who knows. 

...It’s probably Xehanort’s fault. Or the Master of Masters. One of those two. 

“Second, the name’s Ru-”

“Wait a second!”

I pause, to watch Sora break into a full out sprint. Towards...a treasure chest? What. Why didn’t Naminé and I ever see some of those? And more importantly...is the treasure chest really that important?

I mean, loot. But...I never thought Sora would stop talking to _Riku_ for something as small as a treasure box. 

“...Is he always like this? Here?” I ask the Disney companions. The two exchange a look. Goofy shrugs. 

But it’s Donald that speaks up. “It’s gotten worse. He didn’t used to be so scatterbrained...” The two exchange another worried look, before turning to keep a better eye on Sora.

Didn’t used to be, huh. Ugh. There’s that icky feeling again, building up in my gut. Crawling up into my chest. 

I need to find Naminé. But I don’t know where she is. Could I use the connection to find her? It’s awfully...quiet. Why is it so quiet? Can’t I help anything?

I feel cold. I’m always cold, but it seems worse somehow, this cold. Hungry. Like my stomach. 

My fingers dig out a granola bar. Guess if they’re all I have for right now...

“A granola bar?” Loud voice in my ear, out of nowhere. 

I yelp and fumble my hold on the food in question, nearly dropping it onto the sand. “Holy fricking crap, Sora!”

“Hey, do you have any extras?” Sora continues, completely oblivious to me cussing him out. Or he seems to be. I have no idea how observant Sora actually is, in person. 

“Yeah, sure.” I hand over the snack in question, and my fingers go back down to grab another for myself. 

Which...there aren’t any. I’m _out._

_Out._

Frick. I’m _starving._

“Oh, sorry.” I get the granola bar I just handed out dangled in my face. “Do you want it back?” Sora, being very thoughtful and noticing that I just lied, I don’t have any more. 

I shake my head, flicking a hand. “No, I gave it out. Eat it. It’s yours.” No matter what the hunger in my stomach protests. At this point, I’m pretty sure it’s mostly psychological, this hunger of mine. Not much I can do to fix _that._

Blue eyes look at me, worried. “If you’re sure...”

“Yep. Go for it.”

Sora digs into the snack food with the hunger of a thousand ravenous beasts. Almost impressive, watching the crumbs fly everywhere. 

Who knew the Savior of the Worlds was such a messy eater?

“Whoa.” I look over at Donald and Goofy. “Do you feed him?”

Donald stops his foot. “Of course we do! It’s just...”

Goofy finishes for him. “The Moogles here don’t sell rations and we’re nearly out.”

Oh. That’s not good. Also...

“There are Moogles here?”

“Yes, of course.” Donald gives me a strange look. “Don’t you have any of that red munny on you?”

My hands go to my pockets under my skirt. Where the red pill-things that the Heartless have been dropping go. Haven’t used any of them, since I haven’t seen any Moogles. Why haven’t I seen any Moogles, any treasure chests? 

Is there a full game package that I missed out on here?

“Yeah, but I haven’t met any Moogles?” Well, if these guys keep running into Moogles where I haven’t...

I pull out a hand full of the red orbs. “Here. You could probably use them more than me.”

“Are you sure?” Goofy asks, very serious. I’m not sure how a dog face like that can look so serious, but somehow he manages it. 

I shrug. “You run into Moogles, I don’t. Simple math. You need them, I don’t. Here.”

Drop the orbs, one by one, into Goofy’s hands. Since he seems responsible and all. 

“Thanks, Riku,” Sora speaks up again. Finished with his snack. Serious. 

I scratch my head, look away. Tug at my hair. Can feel my cheeks warming up. “About that...my name’s not Ri-”

“There you are.”

...

Universe, why must you do this to me?

I turn to face the owner of that voice, the voice I know only all too well. At my sides, the Trinity Trio readies their battle stances. Making their weapons appear. 

As for me, I snarl out the owner of the voice’s name. 

“Vexen!”

* * *

  
  


“Riku! Are you awake?”

Riku opens his eyes. White ceiling above him. A sigh of relief escapes him and he moves to sit up. Stops as something new enters his line of sight. 

There’s a white gloved hand being held out to him. Not Ansem’s. Someone else, closer and far more friendly. And not see-through, either. Riku can’t believe it. 

“Your Majesty, you’re _here_.” Actually here, in person. Not talking with him heart-to-heart, barely more than a ghost. 

The Mouse King waits for him patiently. 

Riku swallows. Resist the urge to swat at his eyes. His eyes that itch and are threatening to tear up. 

He can’t cry. He doesn’t deserve to cry. Never cry. Not again. 

He accepts the hand and allows it to pull him to his feet. Physical. This is _real._

“Thank you.”

His Majesty shakes his head. “No, _thank you_ , Riku. Your call got me out of the Realm of Darkness.”

“It did?”

“Yep! That’s how I’m here now, thanks to you.” Mickey holds up a blue card, much like the ones Riku’s been getting here in Castle Oblivion. “And with this card too.”

“What is it?” Riku squints at it, reading the small print at its base. Noting its design. 

The Door to Regret. Has the same red heart as Door to Revenge, but upside down for some reason. 

“It’s like mine...”

“Oh, can I see it?” Riku quickly hands the card over. Eager to be rid of it, of what it promises to him. Familiar promises, ones that now leave him sick to think of. 

“Huh...” His Majesty flips the card over, and then back again. Carefully examining every inch of it. 

“I don’t want revenge...” Not anymore. No, Riku never really wanted revenge in the first place. No matter what everyone else said. 

“I know.” Riku looks into those deep wise eyes. At His Majesty’s unwavering trust in him. And...looks away again. He can’t bear it. He doesn’t deserve that trust. 

Riku nearly gave into Ansem, after all. Had already given in once. 

“But I don’t think this card has to lead to revenge, even if it says so.” Mickey holds up the card in question. The Door to Revenge. 

“Are you sure?”

Mickey shrugs. “Well, we have to try. You don’t have any World Cards, do you?”

Well. No, he doesn’t. Just used his last one. 

Riku can’t help but sigh, at that. Takes back the card and puts it into the door. It...doesn’t do anything. 

“Huh?”

“Try mine.” The King offers him the card that he got, getting here. 

The Door to Regret.

Riku inserts it in as well, and this time...something does happen, with the two. 

Merges into an entirely new card. 

_Key_ to Revenge. Glowing and ready to be used. 

Riku looks to His Majesty. The King nods. He’s ready. They’re both ready. They have to be. And in goes the card again. 

To open a new door, to who knows where. 

Where does revenge lead, in the end?

Well, according to Castle Oblivion, it leads to a strange room with food wrappings scattered all over the floor. And some belts. 

“What?” Riku looks around, taking in everything he can. It’s a disaster, to say the least. Why here?

“What about that door?” His Majesty points to the far side of the room. To a door. There’s a glowing blue light shining through the crack underneath. 

“I’ll check it out, Your Majesty.”

His Majesty puts up a hand. “Call me by name, Riku. Mickey. We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

Riku stutters. His cheeks heat up. “Of c-course, Your M- Mickey.”

His Majesty, _Mickey_ , nods. Satisfied. “We’ll check it out together.”

Mickey steps carefully through the piles of wrappings, alongside Riku. Reaches for the door and slowly turns the knob. Opens the door. 

There’s a man on the other side. At first facing away from them, he turns towards the pair as the door opens more fully. 

The man looks kind of weird. But not odder than the people Riku met, working for Maleficent. At least he looks like he an ordinarily shaped human. He’s wearing a lot of red and black, with strange robes that have a gold and blue designs on them, at least on the top part. Red over black lower robes, with a lot of belts. Belts on the man’s face too, keeping red scraps attached to a black face mask. 

Orange eyes, that are cold as they look him over. Calculating. Like Maleficent. 

“Riku.” Those orange eyes flick over to the King, taking in his very solid presence next to Riku. “Your Majesty. I was not expecting you to be here so quickly.”

“Well, gosh, Riku needed my help. So I was able to get out of the Realm of Darkness, thanks to him!” Mickey scratches at his head. 

“I see.” The mysterious man turns on his heel, to the wall of what appears to be various computer screens. At least, Riku thinks that’s what they are. He didn’t see very many computers before leaving Destiny Islands, after all. Where the mysterious blue glow is coming from. 

And there is a smell in the room. Something like dried clover, something he’s smelled before this place. Seemingly attached to the man. 

“Who are you?” Riku asks. 

“I am DiZ. An ally.”

DiZ...what a weird name. DiZ gestures to his computer screens, turning slightly towards them once more. As for being an ally, Riku isn’t too sure about that. Not yet. 

“There’s something you will want to know, then. If you are here to assist him.” DiZ turns his attention back to the King. 

“What is it?” Mickey asks, leaning forward carefully. 

“The Organization members here are all making their way to one particular floor, according to the readings I have.”

The cloaked man taps at the screen. Which Riku has no idea how to read, but somehow it’s telling this guy all of the things he’s now telling Riku.

“Hmmm.” Mickey puts a hand on his chin, scrutinizing the screen very carefully. Seemingly understanding more of than Riku is. 

“That floor is where your friend Sora is. Along your replica.”

His replica...Riku narrows his eyes.

“Why is my replica there?”

Because it doesn’t make sense, what little he knows of Ruse. The replica seemed intent on separating himself from every bit of Riku’s connection. Why would he be on the same floor as Sora, Riku’s best friend?

The man shakes his head. “ Because the source of all of this trouble, of course. The reason why Sora is here in this Castle.”

“But what is that? What does that mean?” He wants answers, not more questions! And that smell, that smell that Riku is pretty sure is that of a person’s Darkness...since Ansem stunk of it, and this man seems pretty Dark too, with a smell of his own. 

“Your Darkness, it’s familiar.” Riku steps forward, closer to the man. “Explain.”

“Ah, so you caught that, I see.” DiZ taps his fingers briefly against his keyboard before continuing. “That is because I first meant as someone else. An enemy of yours.”

That Darkness, and the use of the word enemy...the realization comes like a bolt of lightning. 

“You were disguised as Ansem?”

DiZ dips his head in a shallow nod. “In order to bring you here, yes.”

“Why would you do that?” Riku glares at the man. Mickey glares too, about to say something, but doesn’t. In response to Riku shaking his head, slightly. This is his fight. 

A dry chuckle. DiZ shakes his head this time, no nods. “Would you have followed a stranger here? Or only an enemy who dared you to face yourself?”

DiZ...isn’t wrong. Riku has to admit, if only to himself, that part of the reason he took that card was to spite ‘Ansem’ who seemed so sure he would reject it in his weakness.

He lets out a breath, still glaring. “Still..how can I trust you, when you lied to me?”

“You don’t need to trust me, Riku. Only know that I have not tried to harm you or His Majesty, and have a way for you to get to Sora.”

“Sora? Where is he?” The Organization, from the people who said they’re part it, doesn’t seem like a very good group of people. More like enemies. If DiZ is against them...then he might be an ally. And if they’re all after Sora, then Sora will really need help. His help. 

“Will you go to him?”

“Of course,” Riku says without hesitation. It’s...the least he can do, for Sora. After Sora came after him, Riku needs to go after him. 

A gloved hand holds out a World Card. Clearly expecting that answer. 

“Here.” The world on the card DiZ gives to him is all too familiar, with its sea and sand and trees...

“Destiny Islands,” Riku breathes. 

Of course. Of course that’s where Sora would be.

“I have to find him.”

* * *

Oh man. 

It had to be _now._

“Could you please go away? Please?”

Neon eyes narrow. Vexen’s face screws up in an interesting way. He's looking a little...haggard, actually. Hair all over the place, his eyes manic bright. Is this...my fault?

No. Couldn't be.

“Of course not! You are my research!”

That’s nice. And I mean that unsarcastically, I’m pretty sure Vexen does not know of any ways to give compliments other than comparing things to his own genius. Unfortunately for him, I’m not too interested in getting dragged back into a Womb Juice pod, no matter what compliments I get. 

Well, nice way failed. Plan B it is. 

“I’m not going with you!”

“You have no choice!” Vexen screeches back. The unholy offspring of vacuum cleaners and baby vultures. 

There’s a Keyblade out, right by my shoulder. Pointed at Vexen. “You’re not taking my friend,” Sora announces. 

Like this...sky eyes serious, every bit of him ready for a fight, it’s easy to see how Sora is a terrifying fighter. The baby fat in his cheeks makes it a little difficult, though, to take him completely seriously. 

Now, to fight Vexen...

I need ranged and I need fire. If I remember correctly. 

Don’t have fire, so ranged will have to do. Don’t really have ranged either, but I can experiment. Figure out how to do it. 

I mean, Strike Raids are pretty much throwing swords, right? And I have a sword for throwing. Perfect. 

(Aim for center mass.)

Yeah, yeah, I know. Not like I can hit anything else. 

(Make him _bleed._ )

I throw my Soul Eater. Disappointedly, it does not hit my target. Falls short actually. 

And everyone’s _watching me fail._

Sora pats me on the back. Great. My dream, to be comforted by Kingdom Hearts’ protagonist for being an utter failure. Utterly _fantastic._

“What was _that_ supposed to be?” Vexen scoffs. Holds out his hand and his blue and white shield materializes in a flurry of snowflakes. “You clearly need training.”

My mouth moves before the rest of me. “Well, I’m clearly not going to get better with _you_.”

Vexen’s face, curiously, does not grow red with indignance. Instead, ice starts creeping up from his collar, onto the side of his face. His eyes certainly _burn_ with wordless rage at the slight I just threw at him. Along with the sword, that didn’t hit anything. 

Oops? But not really?

My heart pumps and pumps. Awfully fast for a fake one, isn’t it? I reach for the Dark and it reaches back. Thickening my Dark Suit. Making me _stronger._

(Tear him to shreds.)

I run at him. Around me, the world bubbles as it reforms itself into a battlefield. In front of a tree full of yellow, star-shaped fruit. The edge of the island, a tree stretching out onto the water. 

So it’s _here_ , huh? Sure. We’ll do it that way. 

Sora’s here too. With his Keyblade out and ready to go. Donald and Goofy are gone. Because they become cards, I think? Thought that was a weird thing in the games, the Friend Cards. 

Like Summons, but more localized. 

Reminds me of...Naminé. I need to _find her._

(End this quickly.)

My stomach burns. 

Tears apart as I pull on the Dark that lies there. More and more of it. 

“Let’s get this done.”

Sora’s _face..._ why does it look so...shocked? _Afraid._

“Think I’m weak? We’ll fix that!”

Vexen reaches out with one hand. An offering and a threat all at once. “Riku, you need to stop! Your processes are damaged, more Darkness and you’ll-!”

“Shut. Up!” Claws, longer and longer, extending from my gloves. “You screwed me up, now deal with the consequences!”

Leap at him. Vexen bounces me back with his shield, but that’s all right. The Darkness pumping through my veins pushes back all pain, for later. I get back up, ready to fight. Ready to rip him to _pieces._

I’m _grinning._ When did I start doing _that?_ Stretching out my lips, baring all of my teeth. 

(Rip his throat out.)

Shards of ice flying everywhere. I don’t stop moving, even as they rip through me. A cry and a green magic sparks about my wounds. Fusing them up. 

Black streaks off of me in the same measure. Smokey and _Dark_. 

I don’t care.

Keep going. 

(Stop him hurting me forever.)

Easier to fight Vexen than I thought it would be. Sora seems to struggle, but me? No trouble at all. I just keep _coming._

Bounce about the floor, diving for the Nobody’s face every chance I get. To get over his shoulder. Vexen may have a shield, but he’s _awful_ at guarding his back. All I need to do is get behind him and rip away. 

Screaming. 

Who’s screaming?

Is it me? Is it Vexen? Sora? 

Who knows?

On fours more often than not. Works just fine, for launching myself into new directions. Jump up, scrabble at the shield. It’s about as tall as I am, I’m climbing it. 

Snarling and hissing. 

A whack to the face. Heavy and cold. I make to get up again, but slip. There’s ice everywhere. 

Why is there ice everywhere?

My stomach hurts. I’m hungry. I need food. But no food. My veins burn, losing...something in them. Aches, building up. 

Still I rise. 

“Riku!”

That cry...! Sora! I stagger back. Look at my clawed hands and then look at them again. 

No. 

What have I done?

I’ve got blood all my hands, all down my front. It’s not my blood. Unless my blood is black blood, which...I don’t know. 

I don’t seem to know very much, these days. Not much useful, at least. 

There’s blood on my hands. There’s a body at my feet, struggling. Until it eventually rises to its feet, still shaking. Still bleeding. Starting to slump once more. Tall. Towering over me. 

(Cut it down!)

There’s blood on my hands and suddenly, the ground is so much closer than it was before. 

A hand on my shoulder and blood on my hands. I swipe, I claw, and the hand falls away, adding more fresh blood to my new coating of it. Black, black, black. 

It should be red. 

Why isn’t it red?

I’m so _hungry._ Why am I hungry?

Starving, really. An empty hole in my stomach. 

If I lick the blood off my hands, will that hunger go away?

(Do it!)

_No._

Boiling. My blood is boiling. Everything _hurts._

My brain hurts. Fuzzy. 

Words I can’t understand. People are talking but everything sounds like it’s happening underwater. A blur, useless to me. 

Something shoves against my chest. Feels like a hand, almost. Yelling. Lots of yelling. 

I blink. Slowly. Feels like I’m opening my eyes while buried in honey. What? 

Red. Bright red. Axel red.

Huh. 

What is he doing here?

There’s a loud snapping sound. 

Wait, wha-

  
  


_Burn._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom.


	9. Reverse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we get every other POV but our Hero's. Sora fears, DiZ plots, and Namine would kill everyone and then herself if anything happened to Ruse. Also, there's the Castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! Got through Re:Mind and it won't change any of my plans so far. Actually helped support some of my characterization decisions...but please be chill about possibly discussing it, I know a lot of people haven't seen it through yet.  
> Also, updates will probably start slowing down soon, now that I'm gone into school again. Just warning yall.  
> Warnings for: heavily implied severe body damage. Someone was lit on fire after all, though nothing is described.

“Riku!” Even as the name of his best friend rips from his throat, Sora already knows it’s too late. 

The flames are hungry. Quick. Dying out almost as quickly as they appeared, with a snap of Axel’s fingers. Taking with them Vexen, leaving only a strong scent of something burning. Of _meat_ burning. 

Leaving Riku. Kneeling there still. Until he flops over. Completely silent. His body, his _face_...Sora has to look away. He can’t see that. Look at that. 

His Keyblade comes easily to his hand, pointing at Axel. Who’s still standing there, like he did nothing wrong. 

(Like he didn’t _ki-_ )

“How could you?! What _are_ you people!?”

Axel...there’s something about his face that Sora doesn’t like, cold and emotionless. Like nothing he did really matters. The redhead shrugs. 

“Don’t know. Wonder about that myself.”

Gone. Disappears in shadow even as Sora lunges for him. Fuzzy and fading. Just like his Keyblade. 

Fine. Riku needs help _now_ , anyway. He turns to the one person with all of the healing magic in the group so far. The _best_ healing magic, at this point. His only chance, now that they’re out of regular non-card potions. 

“Donald, you have to fix him! You have to!”

“Of course!” Donald is already casting his spells. Green and glowing and jingling bells. Goofy stays near Sora. 

That’s okay. That’s fine. 

Donald will heal him and everything will be alright. It has to be. 

Sora turns his head. Away from the bod- Riku. 

This can’t be happening. Can’t be. Nope. No way. 

His mouth tastes of bile. He heaves and the contents of his stomach come out onto the sand. Not much there but chunks of granola bar. 

That last granola bar Riku shared with him. 

Sora feels his stomach clench up. He fights the urge to puke all over again. 

“Sora...” Goofy’s hand on his shoulder. Donald, still trying with all of his might, green sparks falling off his wand, as he casts healing spell after healing spell. 

Failing. 

“He’s not breathing,” the duck hisses, in an undertone that Sora’s sure he wasn’t supposed to hear. There’s more talking but Sora can’t hear them over the roaring in his ears. 

Not _breathing._

No.

It can’t be. 

Goofy lowers his hat. “Too young,” he says mournfully. 

“No! You’re wrong!” Sora screams. “He can’t be-”

Dead. Because he’s my friend. 

His entire body shakes. 

He’s on his knees, on the ground. Fallen. He wants to...scream. Wants to cry. His cheeks are sticky. His throat works. No sound comes out. 

Riku _needs_ him and he can’t- can’t- .

Like _before_ , like with the door. Him on one side and his friend on the other. 

(“What do you hope to accomplish?” A sneer. Yellow eyes. _Failure._ )

There’s the sound of door opening. Instantly he’s back on his feet again. Ready to defend his friend. Can’t stop now, have to keep going. 

The person that walks through...impossible. 

Silver hair, those clothes...it can’t be. And the voice-!

“Sora, are you okay? What happened?” 

Goofy voices it. “Riku?”

No way. 

“No. What’s going on?” Sora stumbles back, from this second Riku. _Not_ _again,_ is all he can think in pure desperation. _Not. Again._

It’s the shadows he keeps catching at the corner of his eyes, disappearing every time he turns to look. No matter how fast he turns. 

It’s the person always racing ahead, that he runs to catch up to. Only for nothing to be there. “ _Too slow, loser!”_ A laugh that comes from the spaces in his head. 

It’s Naminé, who he met years ago and knows all of her favorites and all of their best friend kind of secrets. Knows it all yet can’t name a single one, can’t remember what her face looks like. 

It’s the charm he holds, shells and paper and glass all at once, all together. Different each time he looks away and then back again. Shells tied together with a face carved into one edge, a yellow paper star clumsily colored in, green glass framed by metal glittering with starlight. 

It’s everything, all together and at once. 

Sora’s falling apart. That fact would be hard even for him to miss. His only chance is to uncover the true memories the Organization people promised and hope that’ll make the holes in his brain go away. 

Now that Riku’s gone...there’s no way he’ll be able to manage even that much.

“You’re not real!” he accuses the memory standing in front of him. 

The memory’s eyes widen. “What are you talking about? Of course I’m real.”

Sora thrusts out his hand behind him at what lies on the sand, at the...body. Curled up and _gone_. “Then what’s that?!”

“What’s th- oh. _No._ ” A sharp inhale of breath, whistling past clenched teeth. “That’s...awful.”

Sora watches him, eyes narrowed. “Riku’s dead!” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Sora regrets them. His heart screams at the impossibleness of what he’s just said, and this Riku Lookalike looks like someone just punched him in the stomach. 

Looking like the real Riku. 

“No...I’m not dead. I’m _Riku,_ ” the imposter insists. 

“Then who’s that?” On the ground. Not moving. Not _breathing._

“That’s...my replica.” 

“What’s a replica?” Sora demands. Fists at his side. He’ll fight Riku if he has to, like he did before, to get his answers.

(Where did he do _that_ before?)

“A copy that the Organization made of me.”

The Organization? The people in the black coats? “But why would they do that?”

“I...don’t know,” Riku bites out, jaw clenching. And that is what finally convinces Sora, deep in his heart, that this is him. The real Riku. Only Riku could look so frustrated, hating to admit what he didn’t know. 

Out of the blue, Sora then remembers: _blue._ That Riku’s eyes, the Riku who gave him the granola bar, said they had to get Naminé, dropped his sword, were very very _blue._ While this Riku, the _real_ Riku’s eyes have always been teal. 

Oh. 

How did he miss that?

“ _Riku_ ,” Sora breathes.

Riku’s shoulders relax as he realizes that Sora believes him. 

But that doesn’t mean that someone isn’t dead. That the blond guy the other Riku called Vexen didn’t burn up and that the other Riku is laying there on the ground. Broken. Alone. 

“Did he have a name? Other than Riku?” Sora asks. 

Riku looks away, throat working. “Ruse. That’s what he called himself. Said he wasn’t me, but Ruse.”

“That’s a good name,” Donald says quietly. He’s stopped his magic at this point, body and wand drooping. Exhausted. 

Ruse. His name was Ruse. 

“He...deserves better. Than to be left here.”

“Of course. Yeah. We won’t leave him,” Riku agrees. 

“I’ll carry him,” Goofy volunteers. He kneels, on the soft soft sand. Carefully places one hand under the neck, an arm looped under the crooked legs. Under the knees. 

Slowly, he rises to his feet. Carrying his burden with every ounce of care he can muster. 

If not for the...damage, it would look like he carried a sleeping boy. 

Not a dead one. 

Broken and limp. 

“Where are we going?” Sora asks. His companions look surprised and why wouldn’t they be? He’s been directing them everywhere here, in their search. 

But now Riku’s here...Sora _knows,_ with all of his heart, that Riku will guide them somewhere safe. 

Safer than anywhere Sora could come up with, at this point. 

Goofy and Donald don’t disagree, for once in this stupid castle. Maybe, Sora considers, they know something he doesn’t.

He doesn’t like that idea. 

But he might not have a choice. He’s _falling apart_ , after all. 

“And Ruse?” Goofy asks. Quietly, like speaking too loud will break something. 

“We can bring him to an ally of mine,” Riku suggests gently. Like it’ll reverse what happened here, bring Ruse back to life. 

But Sora has nothing else and his heart burns. 

He meets Riku’s teal eyes and agrees. “Yeah.”

* * *

Naminé doesn’t struggle. Though she _wants_ to. Against the fingers digging in her wrist, enough to bruise if she were human. 

She can’t. Not yet. If she struggles...she won’t get away. Not in the Corridor. 

Through the heavy Darkness to what lies on the other side. 

They’re in the room again, with its chair and her sketchbook. No, no! She digs in her heels but Larxene doesn’t even notice, dragging her along anyways. Vines...all over the walls. Naminé shivers. That means... Marluxia isn’t happy with her. She glances at a nearby thorny tendril and just as quickly looks away again, unable to look very long without the phantom memory of thorns digging into her ankles...

Not a mark to be seen afterwards, of course. But the memory’s enough to keep her still. 

(The first and _only_ time she had tried to run.)

Larxene plops her down in the chair. Kicks at the legs, almost knocking Naminé over onto the thorns. Only some quick balancing tricks save Naminé just in time from a fall. But there’s no Marluxia.

“Where’s...?”

“Marluxia? He’s looking for something, but don’t worry,” Larxene croons, sugar sweet. “He’ll be back soon to tell you just how _disappointed_ he is.”

Naminé can feel prickling in her eyes. She blinks. Enough to hold it back. No, can’t cry, if she cries...

_Weak._

A flash of pain. _Fire!_

Naminé’s hand flies to her chest. To feel...nothing more. 

Her connection to Ruse...it’s gone cold. 

No!

“Ruse!” she cries out. There is no answer. Only ice and bleak nothingness. 

“Oh? Your ‘protector’? He’s _dead_.” Larxene grins, all sharp edges and lightning dancing among wires. “Axel killed him.” 

“She’s not dead!” It can’t be true. But...what if it is? She can’t feel Ruse, Ruse isn’t reaching back. Is that what death is, cutting the living off to float off adrift?

How...can anyone _live_ like this? Alone?

Naminé had been living like this. Before. And now she’s back to that. Her fingers clench at the edge of her dress. Pulling at the white material. White like everything else in this castle. 

Larxene smiles, her knives out. Rubbing a thumb against the edge. Naminé’s shoulders stiffen. “You should hope the replica’s dead...because if it isn’t, I’ll have target practice.”

Naminé bites her lip. Thankfully, it seems to be enough of a reaction for Larxene to be content to draw back and no longer torment her. 

Normal, except for the missing Marluxia. 

This is the only world she’s ever known. But she doesn’t want it to be. 

(“When we come here for real-”)

She... _wants._ Before, she merely longed for someone to come for her, hoped with every speck of her being for someone to be there. For it to be _Sora._ Faintly hoped but knew it meant nothing. That every smile Sora would ever direct at her would be meant for someone else. For _her._ But it would have to be enough, because Nobodies don’t get more than memories and echoes. They don’t deserve to. 

Wanting...is different. Bigger and scarier. Like watching Larxene test her knives, having Marluxia grab at her arm, or standing at the edge of something very tall, waiting to fall. Want _burns_ at her middle, at the empty spot in her chest where a heart should be. 

She wants _real._ She wants to feel real sand in her hands, test real ocean waters with her bare feet. To see the golden halls Terra spoke so fondly of in the hidden pages she carries so cautiously, walk them in person. 

Even if she doesn’t deserve it, for what she’s done, Naminé _wants._

“Get to work!” Naminé jumps. Her eyes go up to meet Larxene’s scowl and then back down again. To the notebook in her lap. The notebook she’s supposed to be changing memories with. “Unless...” Naminé’s ears catch telling sound of Larxene dragging her knives against the floor. Until she pauses. Right next to Naminé’s sandaled foot. 

Grimly, Naminé bites her lip and reaches for the nearest colored pencil. 

Her hands may be supposed to be sketching out Sora doing all sorts of things, fighting and walking and grinning. But her fingers itch to try out every blue pencil she has, until she gets that certain shade just right. 

The blue of the night sky, she thinks. Or deep ocean. 

_Ruse’s_ blue. 

Sora may always be smiling, in her pictures. Yet Ruse’s smiles, Naminé knows, have all been for _her._ No one else. Just _her._

Not like Sora, who smiles for everyone _but_ her. No, Sora is not for Naminé. But that’s alright. She doesn’t want him anymore. Maybe, Naminé considers, she didn’t even want him in the first place. Just let Marluxia convince her that’s what she wanted, that’s what would fill the hole. 

But if Ruse is dead...

Her pencil tip breaks on the paper, as she presses too hard. As do the next two pencils she tries. The third doesn’t, but only just barely. 

If Ruse is dead, if that smile is gone...

Naminé draws swirling patterns of Darkness in her deepest violet, as dark and hard as she dares. Almost tearing through the page. Tracing the shadows her glowing light produces. 

Marluxia wants her to trap Sora. To make the Hero serve her and by extension, Marluxia himself. But what if she didn’t?

What if she brought Sora here? And told him...that Marluxia should die. He would do it then. Sora would do anything for her, once she’s done everything that Marluxia wants to in order to trap him. Protect her no matter what. 

If not for her, then Ruse wouldn’t be dead. 

So it would only be fitting, after Marluxia and Larxene and Axel are all gone...maybe _all_ Nobodies should be gone. 

Naminé should go too. 

If she told Sora what she’d done, what she’d made him do, then maybe Sora would kill her. No. He wouldn’t. He’s too kind and she looks too much like Kairi, she knows. 

No, if she told _Riku_ , compared her actions to Ansem’s...

He would finish her. And she wouldn’t be like this anymore. 

Too bright to cast a shadow, too much light to exist. Without this cold block in her chest. 

The fingers of her free hand rub at that spot. Flips back through the pages to older art. 

Naminé frowns at one of her older drawings. The outline of a Key Card. Something about it itches at her memory. Familiar. 

Trapped here...

But she has a Key.

Doesn’t she? 

Tucked away because Ruse insisted she have it. A way out...if she’s clever enough. Careful enough. 

Fast enough, before Marluxia returns and if Larxene is distracted.

Is Ruse dead? She can’t be. Naminé has to hope... _believe._

She carefully takes the Key of Departure out, sliding it cautiously among her pages. Underneath her sketches. 

It’s warm. Buzzing slightly, as she rubs her fingertips against it. Ready to be activated. 

Maybe, just maybe...

She can find Ruse herself. 

_She has a chance._

* * *

  
  


Of all the things that were supposed to happen in Castle Oblivion, DiZ did not expect a body being dumped on his work table to be one of them. 

“What is this.”

The body looks like Riku. Damaged. Not bleeding, but close to it. Burnt. 

Hm. So this must be the replica running around. 

“My replica,” Riku answers, too late to answer the question DiZ had already figured out for himself. 

“Hm.”

“He’s dead.”

Then why did they bring him? DiZ keeps the question back, opening up his various scanners to check the body. He’d rather to come to his own conclusions on this, thank you very much. 

Trusting others...well, look where that had gotten him. Him and his world. 

Wait...those readings. 

That isn’t right. 

“What’s going on?”

DiZ ignores the Hero and runs the in-depth analysis again. 

The same. Information that they’ll want to know. 

“The repli-”

“ _Ruse_ ,” Sora corrects.

“Ruse,” DiZ accepts the strange correction, before continuing, “is in stasis. Not dead.” 

“How?”

Mick- _His Majesty_ cuts in before DiZ has a chance to come up with an answer. “Someone must have cast a spell on him, to protect him!”

“But that’s impossible!” the duck squawks. “A Stasis spell shouldn’t work like this!”

“Maybe it works differently for replicas,” Riku suggests. Clever. 

The duck huffs. “Still crazy.”

It is. 

And there’s the truly impossible part. The cause of the stasis.

DiZ...he looks away at his computer screens. At the data scrolling on them in blue. 

Thinking. Almost lost in the action. 

DiZ is no Keyblade Master, no sorcerer or magician, but he knows some magic. Enough to study it, at least. And his exposure to the Darkness has merely heightened his magical senses. 

This spell feels of Cold. Cold like ice, the same ice a certain Nobody had been throwing around, minutes before its death. 

Had Ev- _Vexen_ cast the spell? Why would he?

Why would a creature with no heart, no feelings, seek to save a creation that had denied it at every turn?

Why would he do that?

Impossible. 

Vexen _couldn’t_ have cared. That would mean-

(That those who had betrayed him were people.)

(Not monsters.)

“Can you wake him up?” Sora’s voice breaks into his thoughts. 

DiZ and His Majesty exchange uneasy glances. Thankfully, it’s the duck that says the words for them. 

“If we wake him up _now,_ Sora, then he’ll _really_ be dead.”

The boy still looks confused. Riku fills in the gaps for him, before DiZ is forced to say anything. 

“Because of the damage he’s taken,” Riku says. “It doesn’t go away if he wakes up.”

“Right,” the duck magician nods. He looks to DiZ. “Is there anything you can do about _that?_ ”

Such attitude, for a waterfowl. Reminds him of past days, years ago, interacting with Scrooge McDuck. 

“If ‘Ruse’ is a replica...then it is possible I will be able to repair him with this.” DiZ gesture to his computer screen. 

Donald folds his arms over his chest and stares skeptically. “How’s a pretty blue box going to do that?”

Do...do none of Mickey’s subjects know how to operate a computer? Surely they have computers, they came up with Gummi Ships after all!

“Donald, uh, that’s a computer,” The King in question corrects. 

“Oh, I was wondering what that was too!” The Captain of the Guard chips in. 

Sora’s face screws up. “How’s a computer fix anyone?”

“If healing magic didn’t work...how will that do it?” Riku agrees. 

“We’ll need data from Vexen’s files in his lab,” DiZ says grimly. “Without them, I will not be able to do any repairs.”

“How do we get them, then?” Sora asks anxiously. DiZ can’t help but pause, take a moment to look at his nervous face, his clear worry. 

What an amazing thing, to be able to care so deeply for someone he had just barely met. A kindness that DiZ could never emulate, even in his pre-Darkness days. 

Is that the source of the power, the Keyblade, the boy carries? Is it possible to measure?

Should he even dare to try?

“I have a map,” he finally says. After the silence has dragged on too long. A map that he somehow pieced together through the cameras and code.

Mickey perks up at that. “Oh, me and Riku can take care of that then!”

“We will?!” Riku says, shoulders suddenly stiffening up. 

“Why not us, Your Majesty?” Sora asks, stretching out hand. “We could do it!”

“Of course we could!” Donald agrees. 

Goofy says nothing but he nods. Eager to fulfill some duty, DiZ is sure.

As for DiZ personally...he would rather these three did not handle this. Data was delicate after all, and though Sora had many heroic qualities, careful is not one of them. 

Thankfully, His Majesty shakes his head. “Nah. We can do this.”

“Are you sure, Your Majesty?” Riku questions. Quick and nervous. His hands are shaking slightly, DiZ notes. 

Mickey smiles. As bright as ever. “Of course I am. And didn’t I tell yah to call me Mickey?”

“Oh, of course, Mickey!” Riku’s eyes widen. Still shocked? Not surprising, the boy did appear to be suffering from self esteem issues. Which also made sense, with him carrying out the Heartless of his former apprentice inside of him. 

A condition born of his mistakes. Of many mistakes. 

“We will await your return.”

Sora perks up. “We will? Of course we will.”

Like he thought DiZ would make him move on. Which, to be frank, he had considered doing that. Only to come to the conclusion that he needed a _stronger_ connection between Riku and Sora, for them to successfully take care of the Organization. 

Also, if Sora went alone, it was very possible that the Organization would be able to turn him, with Naminé back in their connection. 

So many variables to juggle. 

And perhaps...

DiZ turns to the table. The body laying there.

This one will serve the best path, in the end. 

* * *

  
  


The basement is cold. Dark. 

_Creepy._

Like every mad scientist lab in the horror movies Riku’s watched. He can’t help but shiver at the thought of a place like that actually existing in real life. 

“Careful.” Mickey puts out a hand. “I think there’s someone here.”

Someone here? Riku pauses. Looks around carefully, at the huge columns and the computers and everything glowing in this strange darkness. 

A Darkness that smells of rubbing alcohol, of musty pages. 

“Why are _you_ here?” There’s someone here, in the shadows. Someone who, when they step forward, is wearing that black coat. 

A man with silver-blue hair draped over his face. Covering up one eye. The other eye watches them keenly. A book under one arm, glowing slightly. Glowing _green._

“Who are you?” Riku summons Soul Eater and readies himself. Next to him, he sees the King do the same with his Keyblade. 

“I am Zexion. Number Six of the Organization.”

“We’re here for the replica data,” Mickey states. “Do you know where it is?”

That visible eye narrows.

“You will not steal our data.” Zexion holds up a gloved hand. A hand crackling with Thunder. Allows the spell to fly free. 

Riku just barely manages to dodge it, only to realize: no. He wasn’t _aiming for him._

Behind him, computer screens crackle and shiver. Die, the text going dark. The data they need going with it. 

“No!” Mickey cries out. 

More Thunders. More broken computers. 

“You aren’t using it!” Riku argues. “So what’s wrong with taking it?”

Zexion _looks_ at him, expression flat. “Obviously you’ve never experienced peer review.”

What?

“What?”

Zexion sighs. “Never mind, you _islander._ ”

Riku bristles at the insult. “Hey! At least I don’t live in a pit like this!”

“I don’t _live_ here!” Zexion shakes his head violently. “Why would you even think that?! You are absolutely _absurd!”_

“You’re the absurd one!” Riku shoots back.

Zexion sputters. “You-!” His book is out now, not open, but out. Glowing really brightly. Magic-kind-of brightly. The man shakes his head. “You think you can be forgiven for what you did? For what you ruined and destroyed?”

The lab around them shivers, showing a familiar scene. Too familiar. Destiny Islands but with its trees toppled and dark holes eating into the edges of the islands. Swirling with Darkness. 

“You did this!” Zexion hisses. “You ruined everything.”

Riku looks around. Swallows. He’s right. Riku did ruin everything. Let it all fall to Darkness. 

“You should give up and die. To make up for what you’ve done.”

Zexion is right. He should.

But...

He can’t.

 _Sora_ needs him here. He can’t die here. 

There are hands around his throat. Trying to choke the life out of him. Too weak. 

Riku needs to fight back. But he doesn’t have his weapon, and he doesn’t know any magic. Well, he knows _one._

There’s Darkness in this weird Destiny Islands illusion he’s in. Darkness he can grab and use, just like Ansem did. 

So he does. Rips apart the colored pictures of his failure. Piecing it together into a Dark Fire. Hovering above his hand. 

“You can’t-! How are you doing this? This is _impossible_!”

Soul Eater’s back. Riku reaches out and lets the Fire go. 

Knocking Zexion back into a nearby pink column. Cracking it very loudly. 

Where’s Mickey?

Almost as if he’s summoned by the very action of Riku thinking of him, the Mouse King’s voice cries out, “Hey, thanks Riku! For distracting him! I got the data!”

Zexion whirls around, nearly stumbling over the edge of his coat in the process. A realization. He’s _tired_ , slow. Tired from what Riku doesn’t know, but it’s an opening. 

He slices forward and Zexion yelps. Falls off to the side, but doesn’t get up. Riku’s...Riku’s fine with that. He doesn’t need to kill anyone. 

(Not again.)

There’s blood on his blade. Not red. _Black_. Monster blood. 

“What...are you?”

Zexion almost laughs. A harsh, wild sound. “Nobody, of course.” Then he’s...gone. Leaving only Riku and Mickey in the lab. 

Mickey looks around curiously. Worried. He’s got something in his hand, the hand without a Keyblade. The data stuff, Riku’s pretty sure. 

“What was he telling you?”

Riku plasters a smile on his face. “Nothing. Nothing that matters.”

Those knowing eyes again...but the King says nothing, only nods in response. Riku has to look away again, from those eyes. 

Thinks about the Darkness, inside of him, the Heartless. His mistakes, all come to haunt him and everyone else who encounters him. 

Maybe once he would have asked Mickey to end him, if Ansem’s might proved too great. Now...all he can think of is Sora’s red eyes and tear-stained cheeks, his screaming, when Sora had thought Riku was dead. 

He...can’t do that to Sora. He’s not strong enough. 

But Ansem...

(“Your heart will prove to be your weakness, boy.”)

Ansem, if he gets out, will kill Sora. Kill him and everyone else Riku’s ever cared about. He can’t let Ansem win. He can’t. 

Riku’s gloved hand digs into the side of his neck. Ansem needs to be taken care of but...not right now. Sora needs him. 

Once he’s with Sora, he’ll figure out what to do next. 

Yeah. That’s right. He’ll do that. 

One step at a time. 

* * *

“Marluxia? Why are y- ?” Heavy panting, like the speaker is heavily injured. That same speaker gets no answer. 

No. That’s not quite right. He _does_ get an answer. It’s just...not a pleasant one. 

A slice. Quick and easy. 

Blue eyes watch, heavy lidded, as a corpse slumps to the floor. Quickly vanishing into the void. 

A pink scythe shivers and disappears with a cloud of pink petals. 

Silently, the Graceful Assassin turns to the screen. Taps a few keys, reaches over to the side to pull out...a thumbdrive. 

That done...

Disappears. 

* * *

The replica’s dead now. Just like his creator. 

As quick as Axel could make it. 

It has to be. 

Axel rubs at his face. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. Supposed to be simple, easy, in and out. No fuss, no muss. 

Honestly, he hadn't even meant to kill the replica. Vexen had already _been_ dying, enough for Axel to tone down his fire just enough to finish him off and make it _look_ like he had been trying to kill the replica. Claim Vexen had made the thing sturdier than expected if he showed up again. Plausible deniability and all.

Could always use more resources at hand, in the end. Especially if Marluxia and Larxene were going to _continue_ being a pain. An extra body was _always_ useful. 

Not that the kid talking about memories and being remembered meant anything.

It didn’t.

It couldn’t.

Well, looks like that plan wouldn’t pan out. The replica had been _far_ more flimsy than he had expected, folding over without even a whimper. Silent. Unlike Vexen’s screams and pleas for mercy. 

Mercy? Hah! If Vexen wanted mercy, maybe he should have thought better of what he and the other apprentices had done to them ten years ago. Maybe the Somebody of that time would have been merciful. Had second thoughts. 

The Nobody? Not even close. No mercy there. Nothing but ash. 

First, to the basement levels. With both Lexaeus and Vexen gone, Zexion is vulnerable. Even more so since he burned a lot of magic trying to ensnare the replica. More of that replica being surprisingly useful even as he made Axel’s life harder. 

Now, to finish him off. Might be a _little_ difficult, with Zexion sure to know that Axel finished off Vexen and those illusions, but he’ll manage it. No problem. 

Stepping out of his Corridor into the lab abruptly informs him how his plans needs to change. Again. 

Shattered glass everywhere. Weird pink fluids all over the floor, making it slick and difficult to traverse. Sparking wires, all thankfully far above the wet floor. 

No Zexion. And the place has been ransacked. Especially by the computer nearest the tanks. 

There’s black blood all over the floor. Quickly fading away, as Nobodies do. Axel would know, he’s done in enough of them to figure out what must have happened here. 

Thunder damage everywhere.

Axel sighs. Heavily. He throws his hands up into the air. “Seriously, Larxene? Really?”

And here he thought Marluxia wanted _him_ to be the assassin here. 

Flower petals on the floor. Marluxia must have been here too, for some reason. Finally come out of his tower. 

But that’s alright. Axel can work with that. 

Makes it easier, really, now that he doesn’t have to plan out Zexion’s death. 

“Three down, two to go.”

Simple. 

* * *

The Guide of Departure watches from their Datascape. Oblivion’s Datascape. Like they have done their entire existence. 

Watching and configuring. Running and searching. 

They look human, but they are in truth many programs pieced together to work as one. They wear sheer green veils and white clothes that mimic that of their Master’s, but nothing is truly real in this place. This datascape upon which the Oblivion Program runs. 

They are AI. 

Their current Master is missing, leaving only one command in her wake: to protect Apprentice Ventus, no matter the cost. No matter the price. If she had to lose one friend, at least there would be one she could return to. 

But she did not. Left with Keyblade in hand, armor on her body, and never came back. 

Left these halls empty, barren. Forever waiting. Breathing. 

The Guide does not need to breath, but does so despite the unnecessity of it. Hauling it through their nose and then back out again. Repeats. 

The Guide does not measure time the way mortals do, yet ten years of waiting is long time even for an AI. Watching a boy they are not sure will ever wake, slumped over in that lone chair. 

So the years passed, each much like the one preceding it. Nothing changing.

Until the ones who lacked their Hearts did come. Nobodies, they named themselves. Entering the Castle despite the protections that kept out all Dark creatures, including but not limited to Heartless. And among these Nobodies, were several individuals the Guide recognized. 

Most especially the Guild Leader Lauriam.

They allowed him to use the Cards. To use the Oblivion Program’s testing procedures. Other permissions befitting a Guild Leader. 

A mistake. 

“I thought you would serve well, as a temporary measure. To guard these walls more thoroughly,” The Guide speaks out loud to no one. No one but wandering non-sentient programs. 

With a flick of their hand, they beckon one such program forward. Read its status report, of the measures Guild Leader Lauriam has passed with his limited permissions. 

“A reclosing of the Ways. I see.”

Cutting the Castle off from the worlds’ flow once more. Keeping all here from ever leaving, and keeping others on different worlds from ever coming in. A world-block, as some might call it. 

Veiled eyes narrow. Lips pursed and tightened under that same veil. 

Unacceptable. 

The gates must be open for the Master of Departure’s return. Never closed. 

Yet Guild Leader Lauriam will not listen. He has no Keyblade to open the channels, no heart for them to whisper to. 

The Guild Leader has also stolen data. Data that he should not be privy to. 

“You will be derezzed,” the Guide informs the pink marks in the program, _his_ marks. Matter of factly. This is mere business. Nothing personal. Errant programs must be removed, and Guild Leader Lauriam has become such. 

Never that the Guide escorted Lauriam to waking once. Times have changed. 

Other programs buzz around the Guide’s head, each eager to give their reports in turn. Which the Guide accepts, of course. They are the Administrator, the Guide of Departure, after all. These reports inform them more properly of their duty, of what to do next. Of all those are currently with the walls of the Castle, using the Oblivion Program. 

Hm. The situation has shifted. 

“Users Laxaeus, Vexen, and Zexion are deceased.”

The relevant programs that have documenting those individuals move to side, waiting to be properly archived. The next ones move forward. 

“Users Mickey, Riku, and Darkness in Zero are conferring.”

Another hand wave. More program movement. 

“Users Sora, Donald, and Goofy are conferring as well. With the previous three.”

A small program, awfully light in form and shape. More like a butterfly than anything. 

“User Axel is on the move, separately.”

The thickest cluster. It is easier to document a moving Data-formation than a Person, after all. 

“The Prototype is heavily damaged.”

And for the last ones, huddling closer to them...

“Dandelion Elrena and Guide Leader Lauriam have control over the Naminé Modification once more.”

The Guide shakes their head. Unacceptable. The Naminé Modification had connections to the Oblivion Program which would allow Guild Leader Lauriam to override the Guide of Departure’s base codes for the Program once more. 

The Naminé Modification also had a link to Apprentice Ventus and a Princess Of Heart yet to be properly explored. Unable to be explored in these conditions. 

Unfortunate, but both Dandelion and Guild Leader had to be derezzed. 

For the safety of the Naminé Modification and the stability of the Oblivion Program. 

The rest of the Nobody Users are too risky to use in this operation, as is the User Darkness in Zero. The Keyblade Users would be best. 

User Sora is also the most tightly connected to the Naminé Modification, though the connection is false. Along with his two companions, he should be able to fix the problem easily. 

In order to allow Sora to traverse faster, the Guide will disable the memory programs between him and Guild Leader Marluxia. Revealing the “bare bones” of Castle Oblivion, as it were, the white floors and walls and carved decorations. 

Unfortunately, the Guide will not be able to direct the actions of User Axel likeso, though the User has expressed interest in derezzing his fellow Nobody Users. Useful. 

User Sora may require assistance to successfully extract the Naminé Modification. User Riku would be best, since multiple memories that the Guide observed had shown their compatibility.

Unfortunately as well, User Riku is currently occupied with the virus infesting him. Said virus made it impossible for the Guide to possibly contact him as well. Could the Guide contact anyone?

Possibly...

The Prototype. 

The Prototype is currently connected to the system, though inactive. Somehow still possessing...a heart. Though it does not breathe, does not live. Frozen. 

How...impossible. 

The impossibility makes the damage the Prototype currently has repairable, however. 

The outer damage, according to scans, will be fairly easy to repair. Inner damage is more tricky, finicky. Requires more caution and fine-tuning. 

Pay the price? Activate this new series of programs?

The Guide cocks their head, before giving a firm nod. 

Acceptable. 

The Prototype will be repaired and then contacted if still existent. Due to past data collected, if the Prototype is coherent, it appears likely the Prototype will agree to act against Guild Leader Lauriam on Modification Naminé’s behalf. Due to the strong bond Modification Naminé created between the two of them. 

A dangerous bond, but one that holds interesting ramifications with its very existence. 

It is decided, then. 

“Wake the Prototype. Repair it,” The Guide commands the programs. Said programs scramble and scuttle forth, quick to follow orders. Now, to wait. They steeple their fingers together. 

“I shall see what shape this future takes.” 

If it is a future in which the Master Aqua and the Apprentices Ventus and Terra return to them at last...

Well. 

Then the price would be most acceptable, would it not?


	10. Revive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our Hero makes a deal with God, wakes up in a Mood, and DiZ is surprisingly weird when he's not being an asshole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, the response to this fic has been fantastic! I appreciate all of your support!
> 
> Also, JCMorrigan made this awesome fanart for me! Thanks a ton!  
> https://jcmorrigan.tumblr.com/post/190529402055/they-look-human-but-they-are-in-truth-many
> 
> Hope you all enjoy this next chapter! Also, for tagging, do you think it would be better if I did Original Character & Namine or Riku Replica & Namine? Please let me know in your comments!

I wake in my room. Warm and snug in my blanket cocoon. 

So normal it doesn’t strike me as anything wrong, at first. Like the fact that I don’t have this room of mine, that I live in, anymore. This small room part of the living quarters I shared with two others. Lucky that it fit my stuff, lucky that no one else wanted this small room or to share it with me. 

That this room might as well exist on the moon for me, at this point. No matter how familiar it feels, it looks. 

I wiggle out of my blankets and...I’m not me. I’m still Riku-shaped, these hands are not mine and there’s silver hair in my face. 

I huff, blowing the strands of hair out of my eyes. 

Riku-shaped but in my old pajamas, now ridiculously oversized. I’m _swimming_ in this extra large t-shirt now, black with an outline of a raven on it. My shorts...you know, I’ll just abandon my shorts on the bed, no use hanging to those when my shirt’ll keep me covered. Frick. I’m _tiny._

Alright. Why am I here? What’s going on? I sit up, careful to take in every detail I can of my surroundings. It’s all the same. 

My desk with drawers, my clothes bin, and my bed with a woman sitt-

Wait. 

There’s a woman sitting on the end of my bed. Staring at me. I think. Hard to tell when I can’t see any eyes.

I may or may not have squawked and fallen off my bed in response. No one can prove that it happened, if it happened.

The woman doesn’t react. Only waiting, as I pick myself back up. Onto my feet, not my bed. I _do not_ need to be that close to her _again._

And my shorts, as expected, fall off. Frick. 

Well, I’m covered and that’s all that matters, right? Awfully breezy, though. 

Whatever. Gonna look this stranger over now.

The woman looks like a statue. One of those Greek ones, completely carved from marble. Completely still. 

I...can’t see her face. 

She’s got two of those princess hat cones on her head, or one branching off into two different sections. Green. The green of Castle Oblivion’s roofs, trailing thick veils just as green into her face. 

Can’t see any of what it looks like underneath that veil. 

She wears all white, the same white as her flesh. There are brick patterns on the fabric, though, which helps distinguish flesh from cloth. Something about her outfit twinges at my memory...why does she seem so familiar?

A black keyhole outline, stretching from her chest to her waist.

I’m examining her so closely, I guess, to distract myself from _this is my room._ And I am still Riku-shaped _in my room._

How? 

This isn’t right. 

The woman doesn’t move, as still as the stone she resembles. Allows me to examine her thoroughly, without saying a single word. 

“Who are you?” I find myself asking, both from curiosity and from an effort to break the silence between us. 

“I am the Guide of Departure.” That voice...I _know_ that voice. It’ll come to me, it has to. 

“Wait, Departure? Like the Land of Departure.”

A pause, as that strange faceless woman nods her head. Once. Firmly. 

Hm. Guide. Of. Departure. Wait. 

I can’t stop the smile cracking across my face ( _not mine_ ). I don’t even try. “So, I’m talking to _God_ , right now? Right?”

Fingers tap along the bookshelf top, near where she sits. 

“...you have a similar sense of humor as my creator.”

My laugh stalls out as I take in this new information. “Creator? What are you?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I want to claw them back in. Oh my gosh, you don’t just _ask_ people what they are. Even if they aren’t human. _Especially_ if they’re not human. 

Stupid. 

Luckily, Guide of Departure doesn’t seem offended. 

“I am an Artificial Intelligence, given the duty to watch over the Land of Departure and all who dwell upon it.”

An A.I? Whoa, that’s...pretty sci-fi right there. 

But then, that has always been one of the things that interested me about Kingdom Hearts, that odd mixture of fantasy and sci-fi. 

You had the typical magical weapon that chose its wielder, spell-casting, and monsters born of souls and darkness. Demons, really. All very heavy fantasy-motifs.

Then, there were spaceships and clones and scientists! Sci-fi all the way! In the era of fairy tales, Khux time, you had _data simulations_ going on. Entire worlds inside of computers. _Tron_ existed in the main games.

With all of that, why wouldn’t there be an A.I. somewhere in the mix?

Coool. 

“So why are you here, then?”

“Your assistance is required.”

Guide slides off my mattress and walks across my room, to the desk on the other side. Two feet away, at most. Covered in clothes and books, a complete mess. 

I grimace. Fight the urge to go push her away and start picking it up. It doesn’t matter. Not now. Not here. Not with her. 

The way she moves...familiar. 

That voice and her looks...I know who it is now!

“You’re Aqua!”

The Guide inclines her head. 

“That is my Master, yes.”

“Why do you look like her?” Well, as far as I can tell, at least. Other than the veil. 

“My form...I look like my current Master. It changes with Masters, changes with what programs are running. What is needed.” The Guide stretches out a hand, almost examining it, the way its spread out before her. 

“So if you take the shape of each Master you’ve had...” Eraqus must have been the one before Aqua, if Guide has Aqua as a Master now. 

That’s weird to think of, a completely stone-looking Eraqus. Also, that implies...

“So, do you take the gender of each Master you mimic? Do you even _do_ genders?”

In a past life, I wouldn’t have thought to ask this question. In a past life, I wasn’t in a body that left everyone consistently thinking I was a guy. Times change. 

The Guide thinks on this, as she or whatever gender they are, shuffles through the trash on my desk. Geeze, hasn’t anyone heard of privacy around here?

“They is acceptable, if you do not use my designation.”

“They. Got it.”

The clothes on my desk rustle.

I watch, eyes widening, as a little furry head pops up it out of the pile. “Mwar-click!” 

A white-furred cat...with insect mandibles. 

What. 

Its big eyes blink at me. Black with purple pupils. 

It wiggles its body, shaking the clothes off. Jumps out, onto the ground. White fur, six pawed legs, green feelers instead of cat ears, insect wings that look like stained glass on its back. 

Purple and green stained glass. 

I _know_ these things. Those weird eyes and cuddly yet somewhat discomforting designs. 

“Is that a Dream Eater?”

Guide pauses. Tilts their faceless veiled head in my direction. “No. It is a Repair Program.”

“Huh.” I watch the cat-bug-thing stretch out with a yawn on my floor, digging its claws into the carpet. “Why’s it look so much like a Dream Eater then?”

“Data and Dreams are closer to one another than you might think,” Guide says critically. Their hands press together, in a prayer-like gesture. “Akin, one might say. You know much for your youth.”

I stretch out my arms behind my head. “Well, you could say I’m older than I lo-”

“You have been awake and aware for three days,” Guide interrupts me firmly. “You cannot be ‘older than you look.’ I know your creation, your path so far. How do you know so much?”

“I-” Alright, telling my life story, my secrets to some weird A.I. that shouldn’t even exist was not at the top of my list for this game I’ve found myself in. But neither was getting stuck in Castle Oblivion with Nobodies chasing me. 

The Guide waits patiently. Or with the illusion of patience. The way they tap their fingers on my desk is not very comforting, a rap-rap-tat beat. 

“Uh.” I look down at my hands. Not my hands, but still my hands. Hands that respond to me, at least. “I didn’t look like this, before. I woke up this way. Knowing a lot of stuff I shouldn’t know, if I was really a replica.”

I sigh, bending my arms back to pull my fingers through silver hair. “Lived another life before this one. That’s how.”

Man, I don’t know if I’m making any sense. Don’t really want to get into the “hey, your world is actually just a video game so none of this should be real.” That would get real complicated real fast, even for Kingdom Hearts. 

“I comprehend.” Do they? “You speak true. That is your reason for your...oddness.”

Uh, can’t really argue with that. I _am_ weird. Shouldn’t even exist weird. 

“That’s great, then. I guess.”

I jerk my head at the “Repair” Program. “Still doesn’t explain why that’s here.”

The Guide taps their index fingers together. “You were severely damaged. Do you not recall?”

( _Burns_ . It _burnburnburn._ Numb.)

“No.” My voice sounds weak. High-pitched. There’s not enough air in my lungs. 

“That is not all that is wrong. Do you recall how you fought User Vexen and User Lexaeus?” The Guide continues mercilessly. 

(Rip their hearts out!)

My fingers flex. 

“There’s something wrong with me. Why did my Darkness do _that_?” Anti-Form is a lot more terrifying when you’re living it in person. I think that was what it was, at least. 

So hungry... _empty._ Like I was never going to eat again. _Breathe_ again. 

The cat-bug Program curls around ankles, rub up against the Guide’s legs. Who ignores it, faceless head directed towards me as they answer my question.

“Your creator, the User Vexen, created you specifically to wield Darkness more effectively than your originator could ever hope to match.”

The Guide bends slightly, “face” moving closer to mine. 

“Such abominable power comes with a price. Your essence binds only Darkness, not Pure Mana to be used as you will. You also... _broke_ your essence.”

“Broke it?” And this pure mana stuff...does that mean I can only cast Dark spells? Or I can’t do spells at all?

“Broke it,” the Guide confirms, straightening upright once more. “Darkness drips into you, faster than you could ever hope to use it. When it overflows...well, there is no hope of controlling your darkest urges.”

That...doesn’t sound good. Darkest urges...ugh. Bad. 

“Can it be fixed?”

“You are an empty vessel. To plug the holes, you must fill yourself with something new.” A pause, where the only sound is that of the Program clicking at their feet. 

“Slay what you should have been and your broken essence will no longer be a problem.”

I bite my lip, as I work through their riddling words. Slay what I should have been...huh, that sounds _awfully_ familiar. Like something a certain redhead said in another time and place...

“You’re saying to _kill_ Riku.”

The Guide says nothing. Their hands lower back down to their sides. The Repair Program chirp-grumbles louder.

Kill Riku. Become the real deal. Hm. But I don’t _want_ that. Don’t want to be Riku. Being fixed that way? Nah. There’s got to be something else. 

“No. I won’t do that. Never.”

“Good.” The Guild...seems less tight than before. Relaxed somehow. I eye them carefully. 

“Wait a second...what would you have done if I said yeah, gonna do it?”

“Your broken essence would no longer be a problem,” the Guide repeats, hand dropping to their belt. No weapon there, but in this universe that’s not really a problem. 

Oh. Um. That’s great, I guess. 

The Program hisses at the Guide, feelers twitching in my direction. They look down at it and then direct their attention to me once more. 

“Oh yes. Something else. You carry ghosts on your shoulders.”

“Do I?” I roll said shoulders back and forth. Hm. Nothing there. 

“Do not play coy. You know it just as well as I do.” They move their hand in a circular gesture, indicating our surroundings. “This entire room is proof of it.”

“I don’t, actually.” Slightly annoying. What the heck are they talking about? No idea.

_Shhh, it’s a secret._

Just me and the voices in my head. From stress. That’s all. That’s what it has to be. 

“Hm. I comprehend.” Just like that, Guide backs off. Turns on their heel. “Are you ready to wake up? To assist Users Riku and Sora? Retrieve the Naminé Modification?”

“To help them?” I repeat. Naminé, yeah, need to help her. But I have to check... “What if I don’t want to do that?”

A heavy breath. A cold hand on my shoulder. “I cannot have another wild variable. You would be removed from the field.”

I jerk, ducking my way out of their grip. Shivers run down my spine. I swallow, coming up with the right words to say in response to _that._

“If you want Marluxia dead so bad, why don’t you do it yourself?” I shoot back. 

Shove a smile on my face. Pretend nothing out of the ordinary has happened. And it hasn’t, has it? I keep getting death threats left and right in this new life of mine. 

Guide hisses, the most human emotion I’ve seen from them so far. “I cannot! I can deal in Data and Dreams but Nobodies have neither! I cannot touch him!”

Ah, a limited power problem. I see. 

The Guide flexes their fingers briefly, before calming themselves. Returning to stiff standing condition. Waiting for my response. 

“Well, I am going to help them, you got that? See, I’ll show you right now.”

I march over to my door and throw it open. Stepping over my shorts in the process. 

A completely solid block of a shimmery glass-looking material awaits me on the other side. In my way. 

“What.”

My fingers inch toward it carefully, pausing when I’m barely touching it. Cold. Like ice. Probably is ice, looks like it. 

“You are in stasis currently.”

“And that has to do with ice how?”

The Guide presumably looks me over once more, the way their head moves. “User Vexen paid a price, for your life. The ice is what remains.”

“He froze me,” I state flatly. Put the heels of my hands up on my forehead. “Of course he did. Can I break it? Wake up?”

The Guide inclines their head. “Of course. Yet.”

The Program, I can’t help but notice, is curled up at Guide’s feet. 

“You leave this room, you may not return,” Guide warns me. “If you sleep, I will do nothing against you or for you.”

Can’t help but laugh at that. Ha! After telling me that they’ll kill me if I step out of line? That’s an odd turn to take. 

“Well, I already can’t return.” I trace my fingers along the edge of my bed. Tug slightly at the blankets all piled up on top of it. Shake my head. “This, this isn’t real.”

“There are different degrees of real,” Guide intones. Great, breaking out those confusing Yoda-isms are we?

“Sure. Whatever.” 

I lean over, to pull the smallest blanket out. Mint green and fuzzy. Once, it barely covered my ankles when I laid out underneath it. Now...I drape it over my shoulders. The ends nearly touch the ground. About to be stepped on. I tug at my shirt. Still too big. 

“Maybe there is. Maybe there isn’t.” I stretch out my arms, careful not to let my blanket cape fall off from the movement. “But...in this reality...”

I’m a tiny replica that is constantly falling apart. I’m weak and all of my greatest victories have come from me either booking it or with the help of someone else. 

Or completely losing control. 

Fighting is everything in a world like this, where I was literally created to be a better fighter than someone else. And I’m no fighter. Pretty sure I’ll never be. Maybe a berserker, but you need more than mad rage to win a battle. A war. 

_Do you want to leave?_

What does “want” have to do with it?

I’m needed, so I’ll go. Walk forward until I fall flat on my face. I want to live, so I’ll do it. 

Keep moving forward, right?

Find Naminé. Find everyone else. 

That’s what needs to be done. I’ll do it. 

I give Guide a little hand wave. “Thanks, God. But I think I’ve got this.”

The door is open. I don’t remember opening it again, but it’s open despite that. 

Shimmering ice on the other side. 

I take a deep breath. Reach out. Place my palm against the cold, cold surface. 

There’s my reflection in there. Teal eyes staring back at me. 

_Are you ready?_

Grit my teeth. 

“I. Want. Out!” Push my hand against it, don’t have anything but myself here-!

Ice breaks. _Shatters._

* * *

“No! Not the boy! Not _Ienzo_!”

* * *

  
  


My eyes open and I jerk upright into sitting position, screams still echoing in my ears. 

“Ruse!” People. 

I cough. Doesn’t clear the itchiness in my throat. I cough again. My fingers scratch at the weird lumps on my face, on the right side of my throat. 

“Don’t take that off- !”

Too late. The lumps come off pretty easily under my nails. Feels like pulling off clay dried on my skin.

Gouges. Underneath. 

In my flesh, my skin. Raised and rough. 

I hum, examining my finger. It’s covered in a cool blue gel that’s making it go all numb.

“I need a _mirror._ ”

Where am I, anyway?

I glance about the room, taking in worried faces surrounding me. A few feet away, gratefully, but Sora is inching ever closer. Riku, Sora, Mickey, Donald, Goofy. The whole gang’s here. 

And me. Along with the back of some guy in red at a computer? Guy in red...I think that might be DiZ. Hm. Huh. I forgot that he was in Chain of Memories. What bout that?

My face is weird...feel it again. The patterns. I woke up, Guide said that-

(Fire! _Burnburnburn_.)

I flinch. Oh yeah. That’s right. _That_ happened. 

My fingers trace the scars on my face. Because that’s what these lumpy uneven patterns are, scars. 

Reminders of what I’ve survived. A man set me on fire and I walked away from it. Metaphorically, of course. 

I wonder how they got me here? Hm. 

Probably didn’t drag me, funny as it is to picture Sora tripping over a Shadow with my body trailing behind him. Hah.

A voice, a question, breaking me out of my thoughts. 

“Are you okay?” Sora asks, blue eyes wide with some sort of...worry. Huh. Maybe that would be more understandable, if Riku wasn’t standing right next to him. Which knocks out the theory that he thinks I’m the _actual_ Riku. 

Probably general Sora compassion. That’s it. And the fact it’s more than a little concerning when someone lights up like a Roman Candle right before your eyes. 

General human empathy and all that jazz. 

What else would it be?

Nothing else. I make a joke. A _bad_ joke. 

“Well, at least no one will mistaken me for you anymore, Riku, amiright?”

Riku’s face...he looks like he’s trying not to scream, cheeks twitching weirdly. Every time he opens his mouth, he shuts it again. Failing to find words. 

“That’s not the point,” he eventually settles on, sounding like he’s just been strangled. 

I arch an eyebrow. The one on not the fried side. “What’s the point, then?”

I’m pretty sure everyone’s staring at us, wondering what the _hell_ is wrong with me. In more Disney-friendly terms, of course. 

Riku searches for words again. Comes out with another question. 

“Why are you so... _calm_ about this?”

“Do you want me to be screaming instead?” I ask curiously. Really, I want to know. Would it make them more comfortable to be visibly distressed by what happened to me? To the face that does not feel like mine. 

Right now, I feel...numb. As numb as the scars feel to my touch. On _my_ face. It has to be mine, it’s attached to me, isn’t it?

Isn’t it?

Can’t feel it, if it is.

I pat at my face again. Curious. Trying to feel anything. “Why isn’t it hurting?”

Tug at one of the scars. Or try to. Someone’s hand closes around my wrist before I can manage it. 

Goofy, surprisingly. Who lets go of my wrist as soon as I look over to see it’s him that grabbing me.

“Don’t scratch,” he says, surprisingly firm. 

I meet those blue eyes head on. Gentle. Surprisingly gentle. I didn’t expect this. Any of this. Who knew that Axel would lig-

No. I’m not thinking about that. 

“He’s in shock.” Goofy. I think. 

I frown at that. “He? Who’s he?”

The Disney squad in front of me all exchange worried glances. Thinking I’m losing my mind obviously. 

“You, of course,” Mickey says. 

“Uh, no?” Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realize that I should probably not out myself to a bunch of strangers. I still end up doing it. “I’m a girl.”

Riku, unsurprisingly, reacts to my revelation first. “You’re my replica. How are you a girl?”

I raise my eyebrow again. “Because I am. Like how I’m Ruse, not Riku. I’m a girl, not a boy like you. Unless-?” Can’t make assumptions here, after all. 

Riku blushes, an awful blotchy color. Is that how I look when I blush? Ugh. “I’m a guy!”

“Okay. Good for you.” Easier that way, for you. Weiner. 

No. Bad me. Don’t be a mental jerk to Riku. It’s not right to be a jerk to him for not getting it. No matter how frustrating, he’s not trying to purposefully be mean. Bad. 

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” Sora bounces all over the place. Kinda concerning. What if he knocks me off the bed?

“Um. Tried. Universe kept interrupting.”

“How are you a girl?”

I try to curl up the best I can, bringing my legs (slowly) up to my chest. They’re a bit stiff. Harder to move. “Leave me alone.”

“Are you su-?” Of course Sora won’t shut up. 

“Leave me _alone_ ,” I stress. 

Sora opens his mouth, about to say something else. Thankfully, Donald tugs on his arm, drawing away his attention. 

Wait. I’m being grateful to _Donald._ Uuurgh. 

They’re all talking now. Sorta. Very clearly keeping an eye on me, the way they keep shooting looks in my direction...

Not very private at all, really. 

Whatever.

This is the best I’m going to get. At least DiZ isn’t looking. Isn’t interested. 

Systems check. 

How’s the rest of me?

Because that was a lot of fi-

Stop. 

I take a deep breath, fingers feeling along my sides. My legs. 

Surprisingly exposed to the elements, instead of being inside my stupidly snug Dark Suit. But not really. Because of the thing I am not thinking about, it makes sense. 

Burned right through my Dark Suit on my right side. The right arm of it is entirely gone, the rest of it merely holey. Must be where I took the brunt of the bl- yeah. That. 

Marks on my left side too, but they’re arching off my right. Leg’s not looking the greatest, my hip’s a bit screwy with all of the purple scar tissue packed in there. At least it’s not the entire leg, not like my arm. The entire limb looks _awful_. Shrunken and scarred a gray-purple.

The right side with my burnt face, my hair has been trimmed down. Almost a shave. To get to the burns easier I assume, though luckily there’s no burn where my hair would grow from. 

My rib, my _chest_...I don’t want to check my chest. My too-flat chest.

(It’s not my chest.)

Nothing hurts. That’s the weirdest part. 

I bet it’s going to hurt _a lot_ , later. But now? Nothing. Nothing but the itching. 

Next, my weapon and Dark Suit. Dark Suit seems okay. Already to creep back over my burns. I poke at it a bit, and it backs off. Good. For now. 

I call for my weapon. For Soul Eater.

But it doesn’t come. 

What? I frown. Try again. 

My cards are burning at my hip. I ignore them. I need to figure out what’s wrong, where my single weapon went.

_The claws don’t count?_

Shut up. No, they don’t. Call again. 

Feels...buzzy. Like I’m calling someone on a phone and their phone keeps dropping the line, a busy signal. 

“C’mon, c’mon...come here.” Twitch my fingers, like I’m calling for an errant dog. 

Something does come, in the end. But it’s not Soul Eater. 

Blue and white shield, spikes on the end. 

A familiar shield much smaller than the last time I had seen it, now perfectly shaped and sized for _me._

I know its name, as I hold it in my hands. Cold. Metal. Surprisingly light. 

Frozen Pride. 

What have I done? What have I _done_?

Roaring in my ears. My fingers are frigid, where they touch the cold metal. 

“I killed him,” I say faintly, just loud enough to be heard outside the noise in my head. “Shit, I _killed him._ ”

With one smooth, _violent_ gesture, I _throw_ the shield across the room. A high-pitched yelp and several other cries as I presume everyone ducks for cover. 

No need. 

As soon as the shield leaves my hands, it breaks apart into a flurry of snowflakes. Gone. 

But still within reach. Can feel it, the same way I did with Soul Eater. _Always_ within reach. Never gone. 

A silent, judging reminder. 

My shoulders hunch up. I _killed_ someone. Someone is _dead,_ directly because of my actions. Shit. 

What have I _done?_

Vexen is gone. Will he return? The story in my head says yes. My heart...is less sure. And that doesn’t change that he _died._

_He was afraid, when he died._

A whisper. A shiver in my breath. 

He’s gone now. He can’t chase me or Naminé anymore. Can’t trap me, can’t call me a tool. Do I feel bad that _Vexen’s_ gone? Or feel bad that _someone_ is gone? 

Maybe it’s both. A relief and a guilt upon my heart for that same relief. 

“Ruse...” Sora’s hand, in sight, laying there next to my leg. Thankfully not touching me. I could stand if he did, but right now...I don’t want to be touched. 

I remember his sticky blood on my hands. Is it still there? I check. Just in case. 

Nothing.

Good. But not good. Maybe I should be marked. 

_Aren’t you marked enough?_

More than scars. 

“It’s not your fault.” Why is the _King of Disney_ comforting me? He doesn’t even know me! I’m just someone that has the same face as this student-slash-friend Riku. And not even that anymore. My _good_ fingers dance over the scars marring that face. 

Why are they all looking at me like that? Like I’m about to break? I can’t break. Not now. I killed someone but I can’t stop. Not now. These kids in front of me, they’ll kill people. And they’ll do it because everyone needs them to. Not because they lost control like some _monster._ A _coward_ , that’s me. 

I sniffle. Snort up the icky tears that are threatening to spill out of me. 

Straighten my shoulders. Time to get to what’s important here. “Well, are we going to rescue Naminé or not?”

Everyone exchanges glances. Like they all know something _I_ don’t. 

“Ruse...” Mickey starts. “You’re not coming with us.”

“What?” I sit up straighter. “But she needs me! I can’t leave her alone!” 

Destroy her trust in me, she doesn’t deserve that. 

I try sliding off the bed. Nearly crash into the floor as a result. Only Goofy saves me from face-planting, pushing me back up.

“...Thanks,” I pant. Sweating like crazy now. Even that movement....

“We can do it for you, Ruse, we promise!” Sora says with earnest eyes. 

Blue eyes I can trust as I look into them. Sora always keeps his promises in the end, no longer how it might take. My eyes trail from his face to Riku’s right next to him, who gives me a solid nod. 

Yeah. Okay. 

I slump back. 

“ _Fine_.”

They all breathe a very obvious sigh of relief. I scowl at them, but it doesn’t have any heart in it. The squad’s not wrong, after all. I _am_ too weak right now. 

I don’t _want_ to leave Naminé’s rescue to Sora and Riku. Doesn’t seem right, to not be involved, when we’ve become friends. 

(I hope.)

But I can’t...

My fingers dig into one of my pouches hidden under my skirt. Where I put my trash, since I didn’t spot any handy trash-cans in Castle Oblivion. Kept ‘em on me, no littering. 

Tug out a granola bar wrapper. 

“Give her this.”

Sora blinks. “A granola bar? But that’s just a wrapper.”

“Why that?” Riku asks. 

“You’re giving her _trash_?” Donald quacks. Disapprovingly.

I didn’t catch it before, but... How the frick can I understand him? Is this a replica thing? Stuff to investigate later when I’m no longer in this mess, add to the list. Yay. 

“Tell her I’m sorry I didn’t have any apricots for her. She’ll know what it means.”

Drop the wrapper in Sora’s hand. Waits until he nods and puts it in a pocket. Yeah. If there’s one thing Sora knows, it’s carrying around the physical reminder of a promise even if you don’t know what it means anymore. 

I can trust him. He’ll get it to Naminé. They’ll rescue her. Be the heroes they are in the canon story. The _true_ heroes. 

At that, DiZ _finally_ looks over. His very orange eyes narrow at me. Whoa, that’s pretty orange. 

“Apricots? The fruit I have in the next room?” DiZ gestures to the door. The open door, with a room that looks very familiar...

Oh. So that’s where that other door lead to, after the food room. Here. Hm. I’m kinda hungry again, now that I think about it. 

“Yeah, ha, about that...”

* * *

“You do not have a right to go through my supplies like that.”

“You weren’t using them! And you don’t need that much anyway!” Ruse yells back. 

Shouting while DiZ...doesn’t. Mostly an angry growl, but no shouting. While that’s all Ruse has been doing. 

Riku shifts uneasily from foot to foot. 

Did his fight with Sora look like this? He suddenly thinks, with a rising horror in his heart. Didn’t make sense to anyone watching? Irrational?

Oh _no_.

“Your Majesty...” Goofy says in a loud whisper, “Do you think you can do anything about this?”

His Majesty shakes his head. “We might have to wait this out.”

At that point, Ruse screams, “Shut up, you useless piece of _crap_!”

Alright. That seems a bit far for a fight about food. 

Apparently Mickey thinks that too. With a frown on his face, he steps forward. Both of the arguers swivel towards him. 

“This arrogant child-”

“This old geezer-”

“Both of you. Quiet. _Now._ ”

A flash of light. Mickey doesn’t have his Keyblade out. But he doesn’t have to. Not with the light in his hands. 

Surprisingly the two quiet down, eyes wide. Well, Ruse’s are. DiZ’s are harder to figure out with how covered his face is. But the fighting’s stopped, at least. 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Riku says. Almost conversationally. To his replica. Who doesn’t take it well. 

“Shut _up_ ,” Ruse hisses at him. 

Hi- Her eyes _glow_. Reminds him of...Vexen, actually. The one time he met the crazy scientist, way too excited for Riku to beat him up. 

He can’t find words, in the face of that _._ Of those purple-scarred face with crazy eyes like _that_ staring into him. Flickering with something he doesn’t want to name. 

Inside of him, something _stirs. Purrs._

_What a strong tie to Darkness that one has._

Riku swallows. Beats back the sound. Quietly. No, no, no, he is not _getting out_.

But his silence makes Ruse back off, at least. “Good.”

Satisfied. 

Mickey clears his throat. “Now that’s settled...let’s go!”

“Right,” Riku agrees. Eager to be out of here. Even if that means going into the strange castle where you use _cards_ for everything. 

To leave his replica and DiZ behind. 

He’ll see them again, pretty sure. But he’s also pretty sure he could use a break from them. 

When they head out, everyone settles in rows with the people they know best. 

Mickey’s up talking with Goofy and Donald ahead. Which is good. Riku bets he missed them a lot, like how he missed Sora. They’re all friends, after all, and it’s good to see friends again. 

Even if...it’s hard. To look Sora in the eye, after what he’s done. What happened between the two of them. 

An awkward silence, as Riku tries to find the right words to say. As Sora seems content to wait for him. Patient. Riku never was with him. 

Not really.

Is it really a surprise that Sora went and found other friends while Riku dropped in Hollow Bastion? Sora is the friendliest person Riku knows, of course he would do that. But before...

They hadn’t spent so much time apart. _Riku_ hadn’t done... _that._

(“You cannot resist the Dark.”)

His fingers curl up into a fist. That door he closed, with Sora. And...

“Is Kairi okay?”

Sora beams. As bright as a million suns. “She’s safe on Destiny Islands!”

Riku lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Good. That’s...good.”

Sora saved her. Of course he did. But Riku finds himself thinking the thought without any bitterness, for once. 

Not after...

(His arms moving beyond his control, his mouth spitting out words he never could say, and his sword...coming down on someone he never would have dreamed of hurting like this.)

He shivers. 

“Do you think she’ll be okay with DiZ?”

Only one she Sora could be talking about now, with Ruse. 

Riku looks up at the white, white ceiling. “I don’t know. Ruse did get hurt pretty badly.”

His replica’s a lot different now, that he- sorry, _she_ isn’t getting up in his face and wanting to fight. 

Still...annoyed. Grumpy. But it seemed...less personal, now. 

How do you decide to be a girl? How do you decide to be a guy?

Riku’s never really thought about stuff like that before. Does it just...happen? He was pretty sure it did, but now...

The worlds are a lot more confusing than he thought it would be. Everything seemed a lot simpler on Destiny Islands. Now...

Light, Dark, two ways to go. 

Yet it’s not that simple. Murky in parts where it should be clear. 

“Sora...” Riku starts. He doesn’t meet those blue eyes, he can’t and still continue on. “What would you do, if I used Darkness again?”

“Used Darkness again? Like with An- um, that Heartless?” Riku can’t resist. He looks over. Into a very confused face as Sora scratches at his head. 

Something’s wrong. 

Sora doesn’t...

“You don’t remember _his_ name?” Riku doesn’t say it. He can’t. What if what that _man_ said, in his heart, was true? What if saying something _will_ bring him back? “The man who wanted to take Kairi’s heart?”

Sora’s face screws up again. “Who wanted to take _who’s_ heart?”

Riku stares at him. Feeling his heart sink. 

“We _have_ to fix this.”

* * *

  
  


Naminé keeps drawing. Drawing and drawing. Still as rock other than the rapid movement of her hands. 

The green thorns wrapped around her feet keep her so. 

She should be grateful, at least that’s what Marluxia told her. Grateful that the thorns are only just touching, not tearing into her. 

A kindness, despite everything she’s done to deserve otherwise. 

She’s put the Key away. Wants to keep it out, feel its buzzing warmth, the hope it reminds her of. But what if Larxene grabbed her notebook and it fell out? It’s happened before. 

No, hide it. Keep it away until they’re away. 

Talking. Pay attention, or they’ll hurt her. She pauses in her art. Waits. Listens. Watches.

“Marluxia, what’s your plan?” Axel asks, “The two _heroes_ are together now. We can’t beat them like that.”

Marluxia smiles. Lipless. Snake-like. “Peace. Soon we will have more than enough forces to deal with it.”

“But the Castle won’t let us summon our Nobodies,” Larxene almost _whines._

Marluxia shakes his head. “That, won’t be a problem for much longer. Now that I have Zexion’s _project..._ ”

Marluxia holds up a strange red box thing, as he explains it to Larxene and Axel. And also, her, but mostly by default. Because she’s there too. 

“These programs should enough to override those protections. Allow us to summon our Nobodies once more.”

 _That can’t be good,_ says a little voice in her head that sounds a lot like Ruse. Not actually Ruse. Her connection’s still cold. Still nothing. 

Then, Marluxia _turns_ to her. Naminé doesn’t even bother stopping herself from flinching. But she doesn’t struggle free, when he puts his hands on her shoulders. Leans down to whisper in her ear. 

“Naminé, your precious hero is on his way. Shall we test him, to see if he’s worthy? With another Card?”

Questions that aren’t really questions. Marluxia’s favorite kind. 

“A Card.” He presents the square thing to her, with these programs on it. Marluxia will not be disobeyed. 

Naminé focuses. Sketches out what he wants. A flash of magic and there it is.

A Card. But a Card unlike the others she’s seen. The closest comparison would be that of the green Cards with the shape of the Mouse King’s head on them, that Sora uses to change the battleground against a big memory enemy. 

A Green Card with a bright green Nobody symbol on it. 

Marluxa holds it up, examining it carefully. 

“Now, let us turn this battle in _our_ favor.”

* * *

  
  


That Mouse has mystical powers. I can’t think of any other explanation of why I’m sitting here and DiZ over there. Not fighting. Weird. I want to yell at him again, but I don’t at the same time. Tiring to fight like that. Especially when I’m trying to watch my words and not throw my knowledge of his screw-ups in his face.

Hate that man, sometimes. The way he treats Naminé and Roxas in the other games...

I growl, fingers curled up into fists. Digging through flesh. 

DiZ is Sir Not Talking to me, ever since that revelation I’ve been raiding his pantry and the fight that Mickey stopped. Only doing work on his computer. Grumpy-pants stinky man.

Which is fine. 

Quiet, now that everyone’s gone. But that’s fine. Everything’s fine. Boring. 

Not really a lot to do when I’m not running for my life. Or going after Naminé. My face itches. Been itching a lot, since I peeled that gel stuff off. 

“Hm. Still got my eye. That’s good.” I trace around my eye-socket. Feel along the grooves in my flesh, off to the side of that socket, all the way down my cheek. Filled in with scarred flesh, but still far too easy to figure out where the fire went, rubbing my fingers in my face. 

But if it had caught my eye after all...

“Think I would rock a cool eyepatch?”

DiZ stops typing for a slight second. Almost like a stutter. When he starts up again, his fingers tromp hard on the keyboard. Much harder. 

“No.”

Huh. That was an odd reaction. 

“Alright.” I settle back against the wall. This bed is awfully uncomfortable. Shift around a couple times, switching from criss-cross legs to knees up and back again. Stretch out my arms, carefully eying both of them. Making sure I’m not damaging anything. 

Making a bunch of noise in the process. A pretty good distraction for myself. 

Enough of a distraction that DiZ stops his typing. “Get off the table.”

I blink. “Wait, this is a table? You guys put me on a _table_.”

A table. Cold against my butt. Guess that explains why it’s so uncomfortable. 

What the heck. Seriously? Rude. Who puts injured people on a table? Did no one actually think this through?

“We thought you were dead.”

Huh. Guess that makes sense then. 

“In fact, you _should_ be dead right now.” DiZ turns away from his computer. Orange eyes bore into mine. “How are you awake?”

“Wait, I thought you guys got data for me? That’s what Riku said.” I frown. 

“His Majesty and the boy tried their best, but they did not recover more than half of the blueprints and information needed for me to properly repair you. I was about to tell them such when you suddenly exited stasis, with your wounds sealed.. Tell me. _How_ are you _awake?_ ”

The air weighs on me, suddenly heavy with the smell of oranges. Oranges and salt. 

I scramble back enough that my back’s touching the wall, the table creaking ominously underneath me. 

“I don’t know! Did you hook me up to something else? Maybe that did it!”

“You’re claiming the Castle’s network closed your injuries?” DiZ seems somewhat skeptical of my claim. But the strong smell in the air lessens slightly. 

“Yes?”

“Hm.” He turns away from me, back to his computer screen. Muttering something. 

Crazy man. I should punch him. Won’t. Not while my face feels all funny. 

Absent-mindedly, I scratch at my face. Not deep, not hard enough to tear anything open. It itches. 

“Do not open your wounds.” Oh? DiZ looking at me again. What does he want this time?

“I’m not!” I protest, “It just...itches. A little.”

I think about it. How my skin, my arm now feels like there are ants trying to chew their way out of the weird crumpled up scars. 

“Well, maybe a lot. Why are my scars like this?” I don’t know a lot about burns but I know enough that they _shouldn’t_ be scarred up already. 

“...The commands in the data told your body to close the wounds. It did not tell you _how_ to. So your body automatically drew on Darkness. Your scars...are scars born of Darkness.”

Oh. _Oh_. That’s a tad bit nerve wracking. 

I pause a moment in my scratching. If I scratch them open, will Dark flood out, not blood? Eat me like my Dark Suit keeps trying to? Creep creep. 

I shrug. Oh well. They _itch._ It’ll be fine, just need to stop the irritation. 

My fingers dig into my face once more. Itch, itch, itch. 

A heavy sigh. A screech as DiZ moves his chair to stand up, shaking his head at me. Move over to me. _Tower_ over me. 

I don’t flinch but just barely. Narrow my eyes, stare up defiantly at him. 

His arms rustle his cloak and one hand comes out to offer me...a small container. Like one of the finger-applied lip balm things. 

“This ointment will lessen the scars and stop the itching.”

“Oh, great!” I snatch it right out of his hand. Unscrew the lid as fast as I can. Pause as I see what’s inside. 

It’s glowing...blue. Huh. Magic is weird, huh? I’ll have to ask him what’s in this stuff. Wonder where he got it anyway...

In goes the hand!

I only have a split few seconds of dipping my hand into the container before a gloved hand swipes it back. 

“That is not how you use that.”

“Hey!” How am I supposed to use it then, huh, if he takes it? Crazy. I huff at him. Resist the urge to blow air in his face. 

His face which is actually covered in something that appears to be a black ski mask behind the red rags. Not black-face then. Nice. 

That’s good. 

Somewhere in the middle of me being distracted by the revelation that this Kingdom Hearts universe may be less racist than I originally thought, I feel something cool touch up against my arm.

I flinch. “What?”

“Stay still.” Looking over, DiZ has a...rag. A rag that he’s dipped into the blue gel and is rubbing into my arm with small circular motions. With the more he puts on, the more the itches fade. Becoming numb. 

The only reason I don’t pull away, honestly, is because I’m in actual shock. 

What the heck?

This is the dude that fricking dismissed Naminé and Roxas as less than nothing, fit to be used as tools but not to exist, and he’s tending to my burns? What.

Uh. Weird. Okay, this is happening. Not something I ever thought would happen, but it is. I can roll with this. It’s fine. 

I almost relax, at the massage I’m getting. Kinda. Feels... _nice._ Good. Not itchy. 

“Why do you regret Vexen’s death?” The question comes out of the blue. But I guess DiZ has been thinking about it for a while, _needing_ an answer, if he’s lowering himself to actually ask me that. 

“I...” I think about it, beyond the gut feelings of horror and disgust rising up inside of me. To the reasons behind them. It’s hard. “I guess I don’t like what kind of person that makes me, that I killed someone.”

“He would have hurt you. Had hurt you, did he not?” DiZ points out. Still applying the gel stuff. “You defended yourself.”

I squint at him. “Why do you care?”

Orange eyes look me over, like I’m some puzzle box that refuses to open. “You were made to kill your original. To be _better_ than him.” 

And his unspoken question: why are you not like _that?_ Why regret when I’m a weapon?

Something deep inside my gut leads me to ask, “Are you sure that’s what I was made for? Killing?”

DiZ looks away from me. Stymied by the question for some reason. Pauses in his gel-applying. “What else would the Organization want?”

There’s something here. Important. Hanging on razor’s edge. At least, that’s what it feels like. Why is DiZ, Mr Revenge Man, asking these questions? What does he want to know? 

(Will he accept the answers he finds?)

(Does he suspect that I want to punch him?)

(...Probably.)

“Yeah, can’t disagree with that.” I shrug awkwardly. Slightly terrified I might ruin the applied medicine stuff on my arm. Greasy, like lotion. “But that’s the _Organization_. Vexen made me. Not them.”

“Would he not want the same thing?” An argument that’s not really an argument. DiZ, for possibly the first time that I’ve met him, isn’t _angry._ Isn’t seething with rage right below the surface. Seems genuinely wanting to know the answer. 

I fight the urge to scratch at my ear. It _itches._

“I don’t know, you tell _me._ You have his data, don’t you? His records, that you took off Zexion to fix me? What’s he say there?”

“...Arm. Now.” Ah. _That’s_ the DiZ I know and kinda hate. I shrug. Hand over my arm for him to start applying again. He’s got the gel after all, that makes the itching stop. Might as well. 

Since I’m pretty sure he isn’t going to kill me. At this time, anyway. 

Later? Maybe. But that’s fine. That’s later, after all. 

Now, for something long overdue.

I close my eyes. Place my other hand on my chest, over my heart. 

Whispers, as low as I can, to the small curled-up itch next to my heart. 

“You’re not alone.”

* * *

  
  


_You’re not alone._

Naminé barely manages to choke back her gasp, as the cold ice in her chest seems to slowly heat up. 

Melt. 

Ruse...she’s _alive._

Alive!

Naminé keeps her head lowered, hair in her face almost, but it’s hard to fight the smile that wants to appear. 

At least Marluxia and Larxene are out of the room, putting the final plans into play. There’s only Axel watching her. 

Axel, who didn’t kill Ruse but thinks he did. 

...What happened to Ruse for him to think she’s dead? Is she okay?

“Well, you seem perky today. What are you working on now?”

And before she can even hope to stop him, the tall Nobody peeks over her shoulder. Naminé freezes. 

An unreadable expression in his green green eyes, as he looks over the picture she’s been working on. Not one of Sora. 

But of, unmistakably, _Ruse_. A huge smile on her face like she’s just told some great joke, eyes very bright for their darker coloring. 

Naminé looks away. She can’t! What if he rips it, or worse, tells Marluxia and Larxene?

“You should be more careful with that,” Axel says finally. Pulling away from her picture. 

Doing nothing. 

What? Nothing?

She itches to ask. She doesn’t. 

Axel doesn’t move away. Instead he gets closer. Naminé can’t help but shake. Her light glows brighter. A useless defense. 

He crouches. His hands go near her legs. Warming up. Hotter and hotter. She closes her eyes. She can’t look. She’ll be screaming soon, once he touches her with that heat. There’s no stopping it. 

Just _endure._ Like everything else. It won’t last forever. 

But he doesn’t touch her with his hands. Instead, there’s a sizzling sound. Naminé opens her eyes. Tilts her head. Just enough to peek. 

The vines...they glow red-hot before breaking apart into white ash. All falling onto the just as white floor, not a speck on her feet. 

Axel stands, when all of the vines are gone. Looks at her. Jerks his head to the doorway leading out. 

“You know what to do.”

He’s...letting her go?

Naminé clutches her notebook to her chest. Now she _has_ to ask. “Why?”

“Well...” Axel scratches at his head, pulling fingers through his hair. “You’ll be in the way, since I have to finish them off.”

Finish them off. 

Oh.

That’s...that’s a lot like what Ruse said, didn’t she?

(“Because he’s here to kill everyone here.”)

She’s right. That _is_ what he’s here for, after all. To kill the other Organization members. So he won’t hurt her? Right now?

Maybe if she moves fast enough, he won’t change his mind. 

Naminé chances a nod and then scurries off. Behind her, she can hear the distinctive whoosh of a Dark Corridor opening and closing, feel his heat disappear. 

Allowing her to _finally_ breath. 

“He’s gone.”

Now. She takes out the Key of Departure. Her hope. Her possible way back to Ruse. And if not that, a place to hide until Ruse comes. Because she will. Naminé knows she will. 

The Key burns in her hand. Tugs her forward, to the door that Marluxia _never_ lets anyone else open. His room. But it’s going there. Alerting that _here_ is where she needs to go. Through this door. The door to the center of Castle Oblivion. 

Slowly, she lifts it up. Applies it to the door. 

The door glows. 

Opens. 

Naminé peers past it, to...nothing. Nothing she can see, anyway. 

The open door leads into the dark. Very, very dark, even with her sharp Nobody eyes and her glow Naminé can’t see through it. 

She swallows. Her chest burns with Ruse’s light. 

Naminé can’t turn back now. 

So instead, she steps forward. 

Into the Dark. 

(Before her, the Castle hums.)


	11. Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some people remember too much and others not enough. Also, napping! Finally, our Hero can take a break!

The world fizzles and shimmers around her as Naminé walks deeper into the dark. Much like the feeling she got going into that strange in-between place when Zexion ambushed her and Ruse. 

Gradually, she sees more and more. Enough to see the edges of blocks surrounding her, cracks in the ground cut into even squares. Gleaming a green light. 

Naminé wanders forward, for lack of anywhere else to go. Keeps her sketchbook under her arm, as she moves on through the dark. 

The world surrounding her seems  _ endless.  _ Reaching out into the edges of forever. 

Feels like  _ something  _ watching her, from somewhere outside of her field of vision. No matter how she pauses, looking around, she never sees anything. 

She looks up and there’s shadows moving...huge things beyond her comprehension. 

The floor panels shiver as she steps on them. Glow brighter until she steps off again. 

Quiet here. Except for the whispers. Surrounding her with no visible speaker to be seen. 

The whispers...

_ “-Oblivion Program ongoing-” _

_ “-Progress up by 30% and counting-” _

_ “-he must be eliminated-” _

_ “-search for the Master in progress-” _

_ “-digitizing the Journal prioritized-” _

So many of them, echoing around her. Monotone, all spoken by the exact same voice. A woman. A stranger. What could they mean?

They must be important. But for what? Are they connected to the blocks shifting and shivering around her?

Once Naminé thought she knew her place, without question. Now it seems her existence is nothing but full of questions. 

Click-clack. Click-clack. 

Something is moving toward her. Clacking across the slick tiled ground. 

Naminé freezes in place. Holds her breath. 

What could it be? She waits. For whatever it is to come closer. So she can see it. 

And when it comes....

“Huh?”

It’s a...dog. Naminé thinks. She’s never seen one in person, of course, but Sora’s memories have given her some idea of the various animals of the outside world. 

Dogs being one of them. 

His memories never had any dogs like  _ this  _ one in them, though. 

It’s a bright red, for one thing. Like tomatoes and sunsets. Bright blue triangle ears sit upright on its head, the same color as its paws. 

Long, a hot dog shape. Long tail too, flipping back and forth. 

Brilliant pink pupils look in her direction and the dog barks. “Yip!” A high-pitched sound. Moves towards her. 

Naminé recoils. In response, the dog bounces back, looking...regretful. 

“Who are you?”

The dog doesn’t bark again, but it turns its head to the side. Watching her. 

“Do you want something?” Naminé asks, feeling a bit silly as she does so. Dogs, Sora’s memories inform her, don’t understand people’s questions like  _ that.  _

But the dog nods.  _ Nods.  _

Naminé gasps. “Oh!” Well, it is colored in ways the memory dogs aren’t, so maybe it’s a different kind of dog?

“What do you want?” The dog pants at her, sitting on its haunches. Hm. Wait. That wasn’t a yes or no question. Which would be hard for something that doesn’t speak to answer, if it can’t nod or shake its head in response. 

Naminé taps at her chin as she tries to come up with something better to ask. A question that will get her more answers and the dog will be able to answer. 

“Uh...”

A lot harder to come up than at first thought.

“Are you going to hurt me?”

The dog solemnly shakes its head. 

Naminé stares at it, hard. It could be lying. People have done that before, with her. But somehow...she doesn’t  _ think  _ it is. 

Maybe it’s the dog’s silly looking face. Maybe it’s the bright colors. Whatever it is...the dog seems trustworthy. 

Before she can come with any more questions, the dog takes matters into its own hands. Or paws. 

A cold,  _ wet  _ nose pokes at her ankles. Naminé jumps. “Uh!”

The dog paws at her sketchbook still under her arm. 

“Do you want to see?”

An enthusiastic nod, and a tail wag to go with the movement. Carefully, Naminé settles herself on the ground, gently placing the book in front of her. Her fingers flip open to her most recent work, to Ruse. 

Smiling. Will she ever see that smile again?

The dog’s cold nose pushes her hand aside, going to the edge of the page to flip it back. Flips a couple pages back, very carefully. 

Stops on a page with several cards drawn on it. Key Cards, World Cards...many of the cards that she remembers the Organization asking her for.  _ Demanding _ . A blue paw taps on one of the cards. 

“Do you want one?”

The dog shakes its head. Pats the card picture again. Then it raises its snout and  _ sneezes.  _ The blue ears go up and pink eyes become  _ huge,  _ as the creature looks completely and totally offended by what just happened to it. 

Naminé can’t help but laugh. It’s completely ridiculous. 

The dog rolls on its back, before jumping back onto its four feet. Its tail wags and wags. 

“Oh, you did that on purpose?”

A loud huffing sound, from the dog’s mouth, as its long purple tongue hangs from its open jaws. It looks very pleased with itself. 

“You’re very nice.” Naminé makes to close her sketchbook, but a paw rests on top to keep it open. “Hm?”

Those jaws...stretch wider and wider. Impossibly wide. The purple tongue stretches out, wrapping its slick surface around her hand. Before Naminé can even think of pulling away, though, the tongue pulls back. Glowing.

The dog coughs and from its exposed throat, into her hand, drops...a card. With its familiar blue crowned background, 

Naminé holds it up. Staring at the picture on the front. A Key symbol. Key to Departure. 

“You can  _ make cards?” _

The dog lets its purple tongue roll out, longer and longer, as it nods. 

The card in question, however, fades. Breaks apart into floating ones and zeroes before Naminé’s eyes, before vanishing completely. Instead of staying around, like her own cards do. But this is the strange blocky place she went to before. Maybe cards work differently here?

What could that mean?

The dog paws her dress, pat-pat. Walks away from her. “Yip!”

Naminé picks up her notebook, closing it. Rises to her feet. 

Into the Dark again, but this time, not alone. 

The dog glows up ahead, much brighter than herself. The watching eyes....the feeling is so much less now for some reason. 

Naminé walks and walks. Until the dog stops. “Bork!”

Leads her to...a door. 

A big white door. A white door with flower and chain patterns on it. And a green star, right in the center. 

The only thing existing in its empty black place, other than Naminé and the dog. Naminé swallows, steps closer, and reaches out. 

Warm to touch. Smooth. 

The door opens inward at her touch. 

Naminé steps inside, the dog squirming in through the crack after her. 

A room that’s white like the rest of Castle Oblivion. With glimmering chains, or images of chains, cycling about it. A throne in the center. The clear focus of all of this. 

There’s a boy on the throne. He’s blond and in strange clothes and his eyes are closed, like he’s sleeping.

Something about him...feels familiar. Like she knows him from somewhere. Her hand hovers above his leg, about to touch-

“BARK!”

Huh? Naminé turns around to watch the dog moving towards her. 

The dog tugs something over to her, an object hanging from its mouth. Naminé accepts the soft bundle, unfolding it in order to see it better. “Oh, thank you.”

A fuzzy green blanket. Inexplicably feeling like  _ Ruse.  _

She wraps it around her, like the memories of sleep-overs between Sora and his friends. Warm around her shoulders. Comforting. 

Naminé then settles on the ground. Right up against the throne’s side instead of on the throne itself, she doesn’t want to be a bother...

Beyond her control, her mouth opens. Making a loud sigh-like noise. 

Her eyes widen. Naminé snaps her mouth shut as soon as the mysterious force moving her mouth releases her. 

For a moment, she just sits there. Shaking. 

What did that? What forced her mouth to open like that? 

Why are her eyelids so heavy?

She blinks once. Twice. Harder and harder to keep them open. The blanket is so very warm. It’s safe here. 

Only her, the dog, and the boy. 

Maybe Naminé can stop, for now. Just a little. 

She leans against the throne. Not very comfortable, but it’ll be fine. The blanket makes her spot softer. Better. 

Naminé tries closing her eyes again. Only for a minute or two, the action makes her feel so much better. It’s warm. Soft, with the blanket. 

For once, the darkness behind her eyelids is comforting. Not scary. Maybe if she just sits here, a little longer, with her eyes closed...

* * *

The clicking of metal-edged shoes. A pause as the newcomer takes in the scene. Eyes the guilty Card Program. 

“I should reformat you.”

As the Card Program does nothing, the Guide continues. 

“Your creation of the extra cards has created far too many problems. And leading the Modification  _ here _ ...”

The Card Program yips happily, seeming unphased by the threat. Its little feet pitter-patter on the floor, as it runs between them and the girl sleeping against Apprentice Ventus’ seat. 

The Guide sighs. “Fine.” Their shoes clack against the floor as they head over to the girl, the blond girl with that green blanket on her shoulders. The Naminé Modification. Somehow out of reach of her captors and in possibly the safest location in the entire castle. 

How?

The Guide finds their attention drawn to the Card Program once more. Sitting there, panting at them. 

“You created a card to let her in,” they state. 

Correct. One glance at the coding tells them everything they need to know, that this Card Program has committed such an action. A variety of such actions. 

Ridiculous thing. 

The Guide returns to examining the Nobody. The Nobody made of Light, rather than Darkness, the Modification.

She looks so very young. Innocent, in the way most children do in the depths of sleep. As Ventus does right now. But the girl is glowing.  _ Literally  _ glowing. 

The Guide reaches out, and brushes a hand against her face. She doesn’t stir. Utterly exhausted, it seems. Poor thing. She’s cold. Too cold for a child her age. No body heat whatsoever. She won’t get any warmer, sleeping on the floor like that. 

They pick her up, carefully, supporting her the best they can. The blanket slips off, but the child sleeps like the dead. No response. Well, other than a slight stirring, to cuddle up against the Guide’s chest. 

A slight turn to the left and they settle the girl carefully on the seat. Right next to Ventus. She sighs and curls up, pillowing her head on Ventus’ shoulder. Ventus, of course, does not respond. 

The Guide backtracks, just enough to snag the blanket off the floor. Returns to drape the fuzzy green material over the sleeping pair. Tucking them in. 

The Card Program barks again, tail wagging and wagging with all its might. Green veils shift uneasily. 

“Do not think for a  _ second _ I did that out of the kindness of my heart. The Modification was merely in the way.” 

A stupid doggy smile. 

“Fine. Think what you will. Such a curious form you have taken.”

The Guide is not built for caring about children. Not anymore. Their fingers trace the keyhole on their front. 

At what lies locked inside.

The Card Program’s cold nose presses into their leg. It yips. A query. A request. 

“Impossible. I failed him. Failed the Apprentices.”

Those children, behind them. 

“They deserve better than this.”

Children of Departure, children of Oblivion. They cannot protect both.

Makes for difficult choices that have to be made. The Guide has already made their choices. For the future. 

The Prototype, the one naming herself  _ Ruse _ ...

Another life, from the past? Could the Prototype be carrying a former Dandelion at her heart? Or a victim of that age old war?

Surely that could be the only explanation for such knowledge, that admittance of a heart who has already lived once walking in that artificial body. 

The Guide stalks back and forth, shoes clicking and clacking.

Users Sora and Riku must live. They carry the future on their young shoulders, along with the potential of Keyblade and the actuality of Keyblade. Certainly would have been snapped up as Apprentices in another time. To stay in the Land of Departure.

If Master Mickey has not already claimed User Riku as a student. If he hadn’t, well, the Keyblade Master  _ acts  _ like the boy is his student. 

The boy needs a teacher, to fight the virus that lurks in his heart. A virus much like the Darkness  _ Ruse  _ carries. A Darkness of the past, a Darkness of her current existence. 

Necessary, to test the replica. Determine whether the replica would kill the potential Apprentices for survival. If so...the replica would be eliminated. The future could not be risked. Even if it means losing the past that Ruse possibly carries... Paired with that Darkness the replica emanates...dangerous. Hazardous. Should the replica complete her transformation into Darkling, the Guide will do what they must. So many beings that carry the Dark in, within these castle walls. 

The Guide...for the future, they will do what they must. 

The future is already so fragile, without the Dark that threatens it. Stronger than ever. Fearful, without a Master at the helm to defend and lead down the path ahead. 

The Master lives. Of course the Guide knows this. Yet...

It has been ten years. How much longer must they wait, must the Oblivion Program run? The defenses are already failing, if these Nobodies could find their way in. 

(“You’re pretty impatient, for someone that’s lived for so long.”)

The Guide stills. Resisting the urge to be lost in memory. An error, a side effect of the Oblivion Program, memories come so easily this way. 

If the Guide is not careful, they could be trapped in centuries upon centuries of gathered data. Another reason to want the Oblivion Program deactivated as soon as possible. 

(“I’m proud of them. They’ll become strong Keyblade Masters in their own right, when the time comes.”)

Supposed to move, to let go. 

Still. 

“Why must this be? Era- my old Master.”

If only the future wasn’t so dark...

At least, the Naminé Modification is out of reach. Apprentice Ventus is safe. 

Surely Guild User Lauriam can do no more harm...

* * *

My arm aches. Down to the bone. 

The ointment stops the itching, but nothing else. Will it make the scars go away? Thinking about it, I’m pretty sure it won’t. Otherwise certain characters that have been hurt with Darkness wouldn’t have scars in the first place. 

Like Saix, or Braig, or even Eraqus.

So...I’m marked. Forever. 

Well, at least I’m alive. 

Unlike certain other people who... It doesn’t matter. Really, it doesn’t.

I bite at my lip. Resist chewing into my cheek again. Do I bleed? Do I bleed red? Didn’t get a chance to figure that out after...that. 

Still want a mirror. See what these scars really look like. That would be nice. To see what else has changed about this body I’m in. 

I feel really cold. Super cold. Hungry too. 

My body’s shaking. Obnoxious. Time to pull out the big guns. To be  _ annoying  _ as much as I can manage it. 

“Heeeeeyyyy.” Draw it out, draw it out. 

DiZ’s back is  _ already  _ stiffening up. 

Amazing. 

“Heeeeyyyy. I want some foooooood.” Look, he objected to me taking without asking. Here I am, asking. Very nicely at that. 

“Act your age,” DiZ snaps. Not unexpected. I have the perfect rebuttal, though. 

“I’m three days old.” I think about that for a moment. Add, “Pretty sure. I mean, that’s how long I’ve been awake like this.”

DiZ goes quiet at that. 

Which is fine. Gives me some time to think through the implications of having existed for three days. 

If the Guide didn’t lie to me, which I’m pretty sure they didn’t. No good reason to lie about my apparent age. 

_ Three days.  _ Crazy to think, so much has happened in that short period of time. I haven’t...slept at all. Huh. 

Other than that forced break after getting my injuries. 

Might explain some of my decisions, actually. That lack of sleep. But I haven’t really felt it all, unlike times Before when my body would start screaming at me for not sleeping. 

Did Vexen create replicas to operate off of less sleep? That seems like something a mad scientist would think is a good idea. 

Thinking about that...I can practically feel exhaustion tugging at my limbs. My eyelids. A lot’s happened and since I don’t have to run anywhere... I may be hungry, but I can always eat afterwards...

I yawn. Crack my jaw when I do. A loud popping noise breaks the silence in the air. 

Well. Good to see  _ some  _ things haven’t changed, from body to body. 

“Man, I’m  _ pooped. _ ”

Time for a nice nap. Hate naps but pretty sure I really need one at this point. 

Table’s uncomfortable but Castle Oblivion’s a place short on beds. It’ll have to do. Hungry, but food later. Sleep now. 

Carefully, I lean against the wall on my good side. Try to angle myself the best I can without banging any of my wounds. Scars. Whatever. 

Close my eyes and try for sleep. 

Thankfully, falling asleep is a lot easier than I thought it would be. Tiredness overtakes me and I know no more. 

At least for now. 

* * *

There’s gentle snores coming from the table behind DiZ. 

He doesn’t turn around. His fingers drum on the table, close to his keyboard but not quite touching it. 

Three days. 

He has been here for four. Close to five. For the entirety of the replica’s existence. 

DiZ  _ knows  _ he should be watching the remaining Organization members. Planning the future of defeating the rest of the traitors.

Yet here he is, examining what little he has of Ev-  _ Vexen’s  _ files on the Replica Project. 

Seeking answers to the questions that the replica hadn’t been able to answer, among Vexen’s files. If they can even be called that, they seem so out of order at times. Personal. 

There’s a fury there, in the most recent entries. Almost rants, all documenting the “rogue prototype” and tracking its actions across Castle Oblivion. 

A fury and...something else. 

Every scrap of information carefully documented, every single bit of it noted, in a way that DiZ had only seen in the projects that held the entirety of Even’s interest and fascination. An achievement easier said than done. 

A word for it...

Obsessive. 

That’s the word. That’s  _ exactly  _ what’s going on here. But why? What’s there, alongside the fury? What is it that DiZ is missing?

He needs to dig deeper. And dig deeper DiZ does, going through the entire log. 

Among the vehement complaints about the other Nobodies’ effectiveness, the realization finally strikes him. 

_ Pride.  _ Even as Vexen moans about how his “coworkers” fail to capture his prototype, there’s an excited pride mixed in. Notes on how the replica’s already gone so much beyond predicted capabilities, unforeseeable growth. Repeated remarks on how he needs to regain custody over the replica as soon as possible, before the other Organization members manage to destroy him. 

_ Him.  _ Him, as in the prototype. 

DiZ sits back. His cursor blinks on the screen, as he thinks. 

Perhaps, if the pronoun had only been used once, it could be a mistake. A slip of the fingers. But it’s the opposite, “he” and “him” everywhere the prototype is mentioned. Even had never been very good at being objective and Vexen- Vexen doesn’t even  _ try.  _

It’s like hearing reports on Ienzo, when they had first taken in the boy. Equal measures of complaints and backhanded compliments all heaped together. With a dash of  _ How dare you assume I actually care for this child beyond an assigned duty  _ on top.

DiZ rubs at his chest. His gloved fingers, his  _ wrists,  _ burn. Darkness festering under his skin, forever seeking a way out. 

He breathes. Focus on revenge. On his enemy. The only way he can convince his own Darkness to retreat, that promise that one day, he will give into it. 

Focus on Xehanort. 

Why would  _ Xehanort  _ approve of such an endeavor? What has his traitorous apprentice to gain from this? From building entirely new beings? Surely his followers are more than enough to serve him. 

Something is  _ important  _ there. DiZ  _ knows  _ it. Find out the reasoning behind the creation of the replicas, he feels, and he’ll find out what Organization XIII is planning. Their end goal and purpose. 

But onto circumstances more relevant to now. To the one replica DiZ knows for certain exists here in Castle Oblivion. 

Ruse, the replica, is dangerous. 

Not so dangerous that DiZ fears that neither the boy nor His Majesty will be able to take care of the problem should the replica choose to be one. 

But dangerous in more insidious ways. 

That devotion to Naminé, for example. If the Nobody decided not to fix Sora’s broken memories...then Ruse would stand with her. Support her. That support...might cause the others to doubt, since they had already shown such care for the replica. 

The replica which reminds him of things he would rather forget. 

DiZ breathes in and out. Calm, calm, he needs to stay calm. In control. 

It’s the third to last entry where he finds it. What breaks his forced calm. 

**_The Superior has already named the second, so I will name the first. I will call him-_ **

No. How dare  _ he.  _

DiZ’s lungs burn as he breathes through the rage. 

How  _ dare he.  _

Darkness surges up, eager as always, to consume him from the inside out. Offering him strength,  _ revenge,  _ in exchange. DiZ, as always, beats it back but only just barely. He hisses and the world, for a moment, tints itself black.

His former apprentices gave up their names, marked their past dead to them, as in their home world's oldest of traditions. Saying with their actions that  _ they  _ were dead too, the people who had borne those names. 

Just sycophants of the Organization, shadows that needed to be put down if those people DiZ had known once were to ever gain their restful afterlives. 

Ansem had died. Only DiZ remains, to avenge. 

(To die, when his revenge had run its course.)

All that and Vexen dare claim that tradition that was not his? Even was dead, he  _ had to be.  _ They all had to be. 

(Otherwise, what would be the point?)

The snores are loud in the quietness of the room. 

Reminders. Reminders he never asked for. In these files, in this room. He came here for revenge, not...this. 

(“What’s his name then? Your stuffed bird?”

Serious blue eyes give the matter some thought, before he gets an answer from the small boy. One Ansem can barely hear.

“Mirage.”)

DiZ closes the program, Vexen’s choice still blinking mockingly at him as he does so. 

**_Mirage._ **

* * *

Sora doesn’t want to say anything, but...

Sometimes, he’s not sure why he’s here. How he got here. Everything’s too bright and too fuzzy, a thousand different things all going on at the same time. 

Wants to close his eyes and just stand there. Hoping that when he opens them, everything will make sense again. 

Like that girl’s Riku is really upset about. If she’s so important, then he wouldn’t have forgotten her. Right? 

“Kairi...why is that so familiar?”

Riku’s eyes are...sad. His friend turns away, fingers clenched into fists. “Don’t worry, we’ll fix this.”

“Once we find Naminé, right?”

Not sure why, but his heart tells him...once they find Naminé, everything will be alright. They’ll be together again, him, Riku, Naminé, and that other girl from the island. The one he can’t quite remember...

Red hair, blue eyes...and something else. Gave him...what? Only if he could remember, with his heart burning in his chest every time he can’t. 

Strange dark gray creatures appear. People shaped, but with spikes for hands and feet. Hopping back and forth, white clover-like symbols on their heads. Sparking with electricity. 

“What are those?”

“I don’t know, but they don’t look friendly!” Goofy shouts, readying his shield. 

“Go away!” Donald screeches at the things. 

“We’ll take care of this!” Mis Majesty launches himself forward, Keyblade already out. 

Riku races ahead as well, his strange sword slicing at the nearest one. 

The pair...disappear. As do the strange creatures. 

“Riku!”

“Your Majesty!”

Flashes of white thorny lines. More of the lightning monster-things appear. Without the King and Riku. 

“Like my Ninjas? Because they’ll be the last thing you ever see!” An awful  _ familiar  _ voice enters the picture. 

“Larxene!” Sora yells. His Keyblade comes right away. 

Larxene’s...excited, the thunderstorm buzzing around her super strong and loud. About to crack the room open, almost, with its growing rumbles. Her smile as cruel as ever. Spoiling for a fight. 

“Time to finish you off,  _ Hero _ .” Gold knives flash, glowing with lightning along their edges. 

A familiar barrier comes up. Goofy and Donald disappear with the usual green glow from his side. To return, as he knows, in the shape of Friend Cards. 

The Ninjas on the other side, around Larxene,  _ do  _ not disappear. They wait, ready for a fight. Just as ready as their master with her sparking teeth and fingers. 

Around them, the world  _ shakes.  _ Reshaping itself to fit new whims. 

Sora does what he’s always done and readies himself for a fight. Takes out his deck.

“You’re going to give my friend back!”


	12. Repay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our Hero does more physical activity than is good for her, Namine has a talk, and everyone's been scattered to the winds. The consequences of our actions follow us, especially if we didn't expect them.

Beans. 

Really uncomfortable, this feeling of the blood rushing into my head as I hang upside down. The huge thorns digging into my legs aren’t too great either. Right through my good-for-nothing Dark Suit, at that. 

Am I bleeding? Can’t tell. Seems likely. 

Maybe I’ll finally get to find out if I bleed or not. Just gotta get out of here!

The briars are everything, not just wrapping themselves around my legs. Crawling up the pale walls in their sinister black. Black with a dark pink glow to them. Magenta?

Moving.  _ Breathing _ , almost. 

Well, that’s nice. Horror game nice, even.

Twist my body, my back, around a bit. Enough to face my one companion here. 

Someone that’s not supposed to be here. Or something?

White, mostly with tinges of pink on the edges. A hooded head above a jacket with two arms coming out, and a flower-looking skirt. No feet, just a weird dragonfly-like tail underneath. Hands holding a pink-bladed scythe. 

A Nobody symbol, on that pink hood. 

A Reaper, if I’m remembering this correctly. Not supposed to be here, but here anyway. 

Hm.

Hasn’t moved to kill me yet...

Got to focus on that, rather than the gibbering that’s happening in the back of my head. Yeah. I can do this. 

Clear my throat and ask, “Hey, has Marluxia ever gotten decorating tips from Maleficent?”

The Reaper, unsurprisingly, does not reply. Its petaled skirt turns and twists as the rest of its form stays very still. Oddly still, in comparison to what I recall of Dusk movement. 

“No?”

The Reaper raises its scythe in a  _ very  _ threatening position. Moving the blade towards my head. Ready to slice the offending limb off. 

“Frick.”

So. Yeah.

Maybe I should rewind a bit. Explain how I got myself into this mess.

Ready?

* * *

I wake up to a world in motion. An earthquake, in a place where that should be impossible. 

Yawn. Roll over, hand going up to uselessly wiggle in the air. 

_ Flump.  _

“Frick!”

The floor hurts, as I fall off onto it. 

“You’re awake, I see.” Smug jerk. 

“What’s going on? Why did everything shake?” Maybe the smug jerk has some answers for me. 

“The Organization has done something to Castle Oblivion.”

“Huh?” I frown. “What did they do?”

“Something I’m still determining. The boys, the King, and the others, they have been separated.”

I hum. Separated, huh? “That’s not good.”

“It is not,” DiZ agrees. The screens are glowing brighter than before, for some reason. Maybe more work makes them brighter? Who knows?

I rise to my feet. My leg aches, right side. As does my arm, same side. But I can stand. I can walk. Over to DiZ. And I do. 

Feel a little shaky, but...I can do it. I’m not injured forever. Guess that sleep did me good.  _ Super  _ good. 

To important things, then. I smash my fist into my other hand. 

“Where’s Naminé? Is there anything about her?”

“She’s no longer with the Organization,” is DiZ’s answer. 

I breathe a sigh of relief at that. “That’s great! Where is she?”

“...You need to find the others first. “ A very clear not-answer. 

My shoulders slump. “You don’t know.” At least she’s not with the Organization, but then where could she be? Where is she hiding? I need to find her!

“I will search for her, as you gather our allies here.”

Ah. Clear bribe. ‘You go do that and I’ll help you out.’ Igh. But I really can’t force him to help me, I can’t do fantasy computers, so this is my best shot. 

“Alright.”

DiZ’s shoulders relax ever so slightly in response to my agreement. What? He didn’t think I would do it? Hah. Joke’s on him. 

“Tread with caution. Who knows what changes Marluxia has implemented.”

I wave a hand. “Of course. I’ve got this. I’ll go...” I pause. “Where am I going?”

“Go to the boy, your original, first. Your connection should be strong enough.”

Your  _ original.  _

“Look, I can’t really tell if you’re purposefully trying to piss me off or not. But it would be great if you didn’t.” I put my hands on my hips. Digging my fingers into my waist. “I’m more than a reflection of  _ Riku,  _ you know.”

DiZ doesn’t say anything. Taps away some more at his keyboard. 

Hm. All right. 

Frankly speaking, it’s slightly maddening to think that people will look at me and think only of Riku. That his actions could mess my future and vice versa. But that doesn’t matter much to me, overall. People will be jerks. 

What matters  _ more _ , is nipping this overall “original” nonsense in the bud. If DiZ accuses Naminé of being less than nothing, simply because she didn’t  _ come first _ , wasn’t the  _ original... _ well, I  _ would  _ hurt someone. Stab a man, maybe. 

_ This  _ man. 

Now, to assure DiZ that nothing is wrong...

I thrust my right arm into the air in a victory pose. 

“To the Save Point!”

Orange eyes observe me keenly. For some reason, DiZ has turned his chair completely around to look at me, after saying that. 

“Do you not mean “Safe” Point?”

I shrug. “Save Point, Safe Point. Does it really matter?”

“...No. I suppose it doesn’t.”

Time to go. The door opens as I approach it, surprisingly. Reveal the room full of food and wrappers I had scattered all over the place on my first visit. Along with a single bookshelf full of books. Books like the one I had picked up for Naminé. 

“If you must, take some food with you, when you leave,” DiZ calls after me. 

I pause midstep. My leg shakes up the weight, but the rest of my body insists on staying still. “Huh?” He’s just...offering his food, after the fuss he made?

“Go ahead,” he grinds out. “You’ve already ruined my storage.” A pause. “Come here. There’s something else you should take with you.”

Cautiously I make my way to DiZ’s side. Hold out a hand, both hands. What is it? I can take anything the old man can throw at me, this should be no trouble at all. 

His gloved hand digs in his robe. Pulls out...a green bottle. A green bottle with a star on it, like one I’ve seen before. 

My eyes widen. “A Potion?” 

I make to grab it but DiZ pulls out of my reach. Raises his arm, above my head somehow (cursed shortness!) and I hear a crunching sound. Green motes blink into my eyes, my eyelashes. 

Instantly I feel better. Much, much better. I can stand more fully on my leg again and my arm feels...more there, for lack of better terms. The pain isn’t quite gone, but it’s bearable. All of it’s bearable. 

“...Thanks?” I hazard.

DiZ only huffs, and digs into his robe again. Pulls out another and puts this one in my hands. 

“That one-” he points quite violently at the Potion in question, sure to make me understand what’s going on here- “Is for Riku.”

“Alright.” I nod, reaching down to hook the Potion in my belt. So it doesn’t fall off and roll away, of course. Can’t carry everything everywhere, right?

“Go.” DiZ turns his back. The typing starts up again. Very clearly ignoring me. Rude. 

“Okay.” I blink, and take my leave. 

To the other room, where food is everywhere. Maybe I should clean it up...another day, when I don’t need to go rescue people. Granola bars still scattered on the table where I had left them. Easy enough to snatch, extras for me and Naminé. And maybe Sora, maybe Riku, too. 

I take my deck out to check it, with the same motion I use to slip the granola bars into my under-pockets. Smooth and easy. 

In my deck...no more Soul Eater cards. The numbers are the same (probably) but the pictures are all different. All images are of Frozen Pride. 

My hands, I note distantly, are shaking as I make to put the cards away. 

Things have changed and I can’t change them back. 

Not this. Even if Vexen comes back as a Somebody...it doesn’t change that he died in the first place. 

(That I killed him.)

“Does it matter?”

_ Yes. Of course it matters.  _

I close my eyes, air whisping out of my nose. Hum.

It has to matter, even if it hurts me. I just...want this pain to mean something. What could it mean, this pain in my chest?

The warmth...Naminé is still alive then. Still out there, waiting for me. 

Open my eyes again, pat at my chest. Step through the door to the outside. 

The Save Point right outside DiZ’s collection of rooms gives me a nice buzz as I stand on it. The gentle green light washes over me, washing away my pains as it does. 

Too soon, I reluctantly step off. The Save Point’s light dies down in response. 

Need to find Riku. He needs my help. Maybe he can help me find Naminé. 

Up, then? Up. 

I breath and focus. Pull on the hunger, the void. Follow the tug that tells me,  _ Riku.  _ Like I did before. 

(Like I did for Vexen.)

The Darkness opens up before me. Just waiting to eat me alive. 

Step through. 

* * *

Naminé opens her eyes to find her face buried in someone else’s neck. With a panicked squeak, she sits up straight away. 

Somehow she’s next to the sleeping boy, under Ruse’s blanket.

...How?

There’s a murmur. Sound. Naminé concentrates. 

There’s someone talking in here. Talking to the dog who is sitting upright, attentive.

A  _ woman _ , dressed entirely in white. White and green, with horns. The green cloth hides her face, so Naminé can’t see her face, her eyes. 

And there are  _ holes  _ in her. Patches, barely covered up with white clothing. 

It leaves her...wary. 

“Of  _ course. _ All of the Users have been separated.”

Naminé bites her lip. She shouldn’t draw the stranger’s attention, but...the stranger must know she’s already here. 

“I know you’re awake,” the stranger says, without turning around. 

Naminé just manages to bite back her squeak. Sitting up more fully on the edge of the chair. 

“Who are you?”

The figure ignores the question in favor of one of her own. Turning around to face Naminé. She  _ doesn’t have a face _ . “What card did you make for the Nobody Marluxia?”

“I don-”

“Show me.” An order, like any other. “Your sketchbook.”

Naminé pulls the sketchbook out of extra-space. Her shoulders are stiff. No one good has ever asked to see her pictures. Other than the dog. 

With shaking fingers, Naminé turns to the relevant page in her sketchbook. 

A moment of silence, as the strange woman examines the picture. Shakes her head. 

“You created a Gimmick Card. Of course.”

The woman turns away, stretching out her hand. Bright images suddenly pop into existence at the gesture. Naminé lets her own pictures fade away as she takes a closer look at these new images. 

Glowing pictures float around the woman. Who reaches out to touch them, examining them. As far as Naminé can tell, with the way her face is covered. 

Images of Sora fighting various monsters. In one, a huge suit of armor collapses at his feet as he holds up a card. Another, green acids drain away from a colored floor as he faces the Parasite Cage. All of them show various situations in which the tables suddenly turn in Sora’s favor, after receiving a certain green card. 

“That Gimmick Card...has shifted the battleground to its user’s favor. The entire castle reshaped to another’s whims,  _ attacking  _ my mainframe.”

A wave of a hand. The pictures disappear as the hidden face turns to Naminé once more. 

“As to answer your question, I am the Guide of this place.”

A Guide? This castle has someone who’s supposed to guide? Maybe that is why there are  _ cards  _ here, Naminé has gleaned enough from her minders’ complaints to figure out that most worlds do not run on cards like Castle Oblivion does. 

The rest of those words too...

“Attacking what?” Whatever a mainframe is, it must be important if this Guide is so worried about Marluxia hurting it with the card Naminé made. 

“Me.” The Guide states simply. “The Card you and the Program created for  _ him _ , came from a virus created by the User Zexion. A virus meant to break my barriers down. Now...”

Patches of the Guide shimmer and fizzle. 

“I am unstable.”

Naminé’s hand goes up to her mouth. The Card  _ she  _ made... “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...”

She never means to hurt anyone, but she does it anyway. 

The dog looks at her sadly, ears flopping down. 

“It is what it is.”

The Guide taps at her right shoulder with her left hand. A flash of light and she’s covered in...armor. White and pale green armor, over a dark gray undersuit. 

A helmet, horned much like the fabric horns of before, tilts at her. 

“You should stay here. Sleep, with the Apprentice.”

The Guide gestures to the boy, the sleeping boy, at Naminé’s side. Who hasn’t moved once. 

Right away, Naminé shakes her head. “No. I need to help.”

Naminé doesn’t want to sleep forever...not when she has promises to keep first. 

“This is the safest location within this entire world. To leave it means entering danger.” A statement. More of a question, honestly. 

“I...” Naminé thinks. Slower this time, since that appears to be what the Guide expects of her. 

It’ll be dangerous...but Sora is out there.  _ Ruse  _ is out there. Needing her help, like the Guide does now. If she helps the Guide fight the monster, it’ll be safer for Ruse. She needs to fix what she’s done wrong. Repay.

Carefully she pushes the blanket off of her, sliding off the chair. Just as carefully pulls the blanket over the sleeping boy. Faces the Guide, on her feet. 

“I want to come.”

The Guide tilts their head. Considering. Before speaking once more. 

“You would let her out once I left, wouldn’t you?” The Guide directs their question to the dog by Naminé’s feet, rather than Naminé herself. 

The dog nods cheerfully. “Bark!”

An exasperated sound escapes from that still covered face, though newly with metal replacing green fabric. 

“Fine. Stay by my side then. I cannot guarantee your protection otherwise.”

Naminé has to stop, for a moment. To take the words in. 

“You’re...letting me come with you?”

“Not like this.” That armored head moves up and down, looking her over. “The virus will eat you alive, unprotected as you are.”

An armored glove reaches out and then pauses. 

“May I?”

Naminé stiffens up her shoulders and dips her head into a nod. Once. 

It’s a touch Naminé barely even feels it’s so soft, upon her hand. 

The result of that touch happens right away. 

Hundreds of tiny zeroes and ones, glowing green right above her skin. As she watches, the numbers solidify into...armor. 

White armor, as white as her dress. A helmet over her head, covering her face. A brief whisper.  _ “Ventus Armor Skin applied.” _

What does that mean?

“Are you ready?” The Guide turns, the door to the room opening before her. 

Naminé takes a deep breath. Follows the Guide into the strange place, into the unknown awaiting them. The dog breathes loudly at her feet, tongue hanging low.

What could be out there now, among the shadows and whispers? What is this virus?

Naminé hopes...it’ll be okay. It has to be. 

(She’ll fix this.)

(She has to.)

* * *

“Oh,  _ great.  _ Didn’t mean to run into you.”

“You’re a member of the Organization!”

“Name’s  _ Axel _ , got it memorized?  _ Axel. _ ”

“...Axel. Why are you here?”

“Look, we both want the same thing, don’t we, King? Marluxia, gone. Maybe we can work together on that.”

“If you hurt any of my friends...”

“You’ll kill me, right? Pft, don’t worry about it. I’m not interested in your friends. Just want to get the job done so I can get out of here, got it?”

“Alright. We’ll work together, then.”

“Great! Allies, until we’re through. Find your friends.”

“Until you hurt anyone.”

“Again, I’m not interested in hurting your friends. Sounds like you keep  _ forgetting... _ ”

“You set someone on fire!”

“...Touche.”

* * *

There are weird marks all over the walls of the floor I’ve just walked out of pressurizing Darkness into. Smears that look an awful lot like  _ black blood.  _ Like there’s been a huge fight around here. With thin, thin plant tendrils sticking themselves right into those globs of goo. Gross. 

(Not gonna think about it.)

And the air...I’m not  _ trying to smell _ anything, it just stinks. Of vanilla. Hm. That probably means something, but I’m not sure what. Shove a snack in my mouth, fight back the hunger. 

“Now, where is Riku? DiZ said he was around here somewhere...” I mumble through a mouthful of granola bar. Wander around a bit, he’s got to be around here...

I do find him. I nearly trip over him, in fact. Curled up on the floor like a dead spider. Surrounded by more dark smears. Centered in what looks like an explosion of them. 

Riku, alone on the floor. What? Alone wearing his...Dark Suit. Like mine. Huh?

Where’s Mickey? Where’s everyone else? Didn’t Riku leave with them?

“Whmuph.”

Wait. Swallow first. Then talk again. 

“What happened here?”

I walk up to him, kneel next to his very still body. His chest is moving, so he’s alive at least. Need to figure out what’s wrong, why he’s laying here completely alone. 

Break a Potion over him. The green sparkles sink into his face but it doesn’t even twitch. Nothing looks different from before. Maybe I need another Potion? I’ll check the rest of him first, before I do that, though. 

I pull his eyelid up. Just a little. Something about checking for concussions that way, if there’s stuff wrong with the pupils, I think.

Seeing what lies underneath...I instantly let go. Back up. A foot away. Probably not far enough. 

Don’t know about the pupils, but those eyes...aren’t teal anymore. 

_ Yellow  _ eyes.  _ Xehanort  _ yellow eyes. 

Oh  _ no.  _

Ansem’s still in his heart at this point, isn’t he? And I...distracted Riku from going on his heart quest to beat the Heartless off. Riku went off with Sora instead. Frick. 

That’s not good.  _ Really  _ not good. 

There is absolutely nothing I can do about it. Except hope that Riku wins his battle so Ansem won’t end up killing us all. 

He will. He’s that kind of kid, after all. A good kid, even if I’ve been a jerk to him. He’s definitely strong enough, determined enough, to fight his way through. 

Especially if Sora and his other friends are on the line. 

Yeah.

RIku can do it. Did it another time and place, didn’t he?

I breathe. “Yeah. It’ll be fine.”

I didn’t screw up. I did, but...it’ll be fine. It has to.  _ I  _ wouldn’t be able to do it, but Riku’s more than strong enough. 

I’m just the replica, after all. The extra that’s supposed to die after the first act. The token death to make everyone all feel bad. I won’t be able to change anything  _ too  _ badly. 

It’ll be fine. 

Slow breaths, in and out. Carefully, I slide my way over to Riku’s side once again. 

Looks...abandoned there. On the floor. A puppet with cut strings. Someone who passed out unexpectedly while completely alone. 

Again, where did Mickey go? Shouldn’t he be here? Or Sora and his squad? An actual friend of Riku, not...me

The asshole reflection of him. 

I sigh. Kneel next to RIku’s very still body. Reach out. Doesn’t feel any differently from a normal person, to touch, as I pull him closer. Drag him, really. 

Wrap his arms around my neck, lift him up with me as I stand. Grab his legs so they’re sorta wrapped around the lower half of my middle, but mostly supported by hands gripping onto them. His head’s leaning on my shoulder, up against my ear. The not burnt side, of course, thank you very much. Heavy. 

I’m already catching my breath, just standing here. 

“Please wake up soon. I can’t do this forever.”

Did Riku already have a decent muscle mass or did Vexen add something extra? Whatever it is, I can carry this kid around. No problem. Really. 

Carrying him would be so much easier if I was  _ taller _ than him, and not the same size.

_ Short.  _

Being frickin’  _ short  _ sucks. But Riku gets tall, at least in Kingdom Hearts 3, so that’ll hopefully be in my future as well. 

If I live that long. What is it, three years from now?

Not sure if I’ll make it, when I almost died after three  _ days.  _ But we’ll see. I’ll try my best. 

Take a step forward. Almost fall over, didn’t account for the added weight on my back. Readjust. Try again. Another step. 

Smooth. Still upright. Better. 

Gotta keep moving. Stopping too long...I’ll drop him if I stop. Can’t stop. Won’t stop. 

Riku is awfully still, but I can feel him breathing. Good. 

“C’mon, dude. You can do it. Sora will be really sad if you don’t,” I murmur. “And Kairi. And Mickey. And a lot of other people. We’re counting on you.”

Walking. The halls are awfully empty, not a Heartless to be seen. Empty but for the weird thorns everywhere. Aren’t there supposed to be Heartless even in the Castle Oblivion part of Castle Oblivion?

...I can’t believe that actually makes sense. Ugh. 

But nothing. Just me and the boy on my back. Everything smells of... vanilla, for some reason. Weird. 

Vanilla and... _ rot.  _ Rotting fish, bad seafood style. Faint but there. Very much there. Gross. Breath through my mouth, not my nose. Lessens some of the ick. 

Walking. Can’t let the Nobodies catch up to us. 

I feel cold. Well, colder than I normally do. My scars are tingling. Or, the skin around them is. My scars are rather...numb. Mostly. 

A hissing, slithering sound. My facial scar  _ burns,  _ almost in response. I bite down on my lip, choking back my cry. 

Silver threads, mixed in with black. Just as silver creatures stepping out of the streams. With Nobody symbols replacing their faces, thin and stretched out. Rubbery-looking, flashing cuttlefish lights running up their sides. 

Dusks!

And me with Riku weighing me down. 

Beans. 

_ Protect him! _

On my left arm, my  _ good  _ arm, a blue and white shield appears. Shaping itself into existence out of a flurry of snowflake patterns. Tall, enough to cover the majority of my body. Just like Vexen, only scaled down. Cold. 

“I didn’t ask for this!” I scream. Swing my arm (the one with the shield on it) out in frustration. 

I don’t hit anything. Of course. 

And the classic Pokemon duel spiral isn’t showing up for some reason. My cards are cold at my waist. Yet the Dusks are still attacking me. Something is wrong. 

The Dusks slide closer. Some move out of my field of vision. Surrounding me, I bet. 

Riku groans right in my ear, shifting uneasily. The smell of rotten fish intensifies. 

“C’mon. We can do this. If I can fight these Dusks while carrying you, you can fight Ansem.”

I need to get my back to something. Fighting while surrounded is all well and cool in action movies and gaming cutscenes, but in real life, that’s just begging to get stabbed in the back. Literally and metaphorically. 

Well, at least they’re  _ Dusks.  _ Squiggly bois. Not any of the more impressive Nobodies. 

Almost in response to my thoughts, one tentacle arm lashes out at me. Sharp, cuts into my arm. Proving that, yes, Dusks are a threat too. 

“Ow!”

I whirl around, swinging out my shield. The Dusk jumps back and another jumps in with an attack on my non-shielded side. Another cut! Multiple cuts all at once from different directions! No blood, but hurts!

“Agh!”

Okay, if I keep reacting and nothing else, I will lose. A thinker wins wars, while instinct loses them. Find wall, get out of Dusk circle. Got it. 

Can I call on my Darkness, to do a defensive burst like when I fought Riku?

...Maybe.

Might hurt Riku but Dusks will hurt us more. I reach for the hunger in my gut. That familiar empty feeling. 

_ No. You are not alone this time.  _

Something...reaches back? An invisible cold hand gripping at my chest. 

A feeling of...I don’t know. What  _ am  _ I feeling? It comes fast and furious, whatever it is. 

I scream and that feeling  _ erupts  _ from me, throwing the Dusks back. 

An explosion of ice? Icicles, arching up from a circle surrounding my feet. 

The feeling is gone now. But an instinct, in my blood, my heart, tells me I can call it back.

Is this...magic?

I grin, wide enough to feel it in my scar as it stretches out too. “Oh, you guys are  _ screwed _ .”

Oh, and before that...I check over my shoulder. To my relief, Riku’s still secure.  _ Surprisingly.  _ Am I sticking him to me with magic or something? Breathing, but no movement. Hasn’t been for a while. 

I beckon with my right hand. Life my shield up slightly with my left. “C’mon,” I dare, riding that high of  _ actually doing magic! _

The Dusks, instead, choose to retreat. Vanishing with their flashy portals. 

“Good choice.” Awesome! I live to see another day!

At that point, Riku moves. A violent motion, that pulls him right off my back with a heavy “Oof!”

I quickly turn around to look over his limp body. Laying upwards, face directed towards the ceiling. “Huh?”

“What’s...going...?”

Riku’s eyes crack open. To my relief, not a streak of yellow to be seen. Only teal. 

“Whew. You okay, dude?”

Slowly, Riku pushes himself up into a sitting position with his arms. 

I offer a hand. “Need up?”

Riku stares at me with wary eyes. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Inwardly, I wince at that.  _ Frick.  _ Well, I deserve that, for the jerk I’ve been to him. 

Oh man, I have to  _ apologize.  _ Hate that. The  _ worst. _

Shuffle my feet, keep my hand held out. “I’m...sorry.”

More awkward staring.

“I didn’t- fine, I shouldn’t have said what I did, I just- you know. Nevermind.” I shake my head. “No excuses. I’m sorry.”

Just when I think I’m going to have to take back my hand or have it fall off, a gloved hand grabs onto me. 

With one smooth motion, I pull the kid back onto his feet. “Why are you wearing that anyway?”

Gesturing to his Dark Suit with my free hand. The burnt one. 

“I...I lost control.” Riku lowers his eyes. “Of my Darkness.”

“Oh, okay. Well...” Frick, what do I say? “Glad you’re back?” 

Oh, that probably was not it. 

_ Bad idea.  _

You shut up. 

Riku reaches up to rub at his shoulder, clearly not looking at me. 

I fight back another sigh and wave a hand at him. Beckoning him with the curl of my fingers. All five of them, right side. 

“Coming?”

Riku lets out a heavy breath. 

“I don’t think...I can’t go with you.”

I tilt my head. “Why not?”

“I...I’ll hurt him, Until I get my Darkness under control.” Riku looks away. Blotchy blushing again. Clearly hating that he’s admitting this to me. 

Which is fine. This isn’t something to tease him about, this serious subject on the odds of everyone getting devoured by Xehanort’s Heartless or something. 

“Alright. You going to get help from Mickey or something? Best not to do this alone.”

“Yeah. I’ll find him first. 

Huh. That’s good. Riku shouldn’t be alone for too long, if he’s passing out on the floor randomly. Maybe I should go with him, just in case he doesn’t find the Mouse King. 

“Do you know where he is? Just wondering.” I put my hands behind my head, tilting my head at him. 

“I can smell him,” Riku says, tapping at his nose. Completely straight-faced, completely serious. 

I stare at him. Right...I had forgotten that this was a thing, in Chain of Memories. The smelling thing. 

“You do that then.”

Oh! I should ask him! About her!

Keep it cool, don’t want to seem too eager.

“Do you know where Naminé is, if you can sniff people out like that?” I ask. Cool, calm, professional. Perfect. 

“I...” Riku looks embarrassed to admit this. “I don’t know who that is. Or what the smell would be.”

I sigh, shoulders lowering. “I guess...”

I need to find Naminé. But if I can’t find her this way, through Riku senses...then according to canon, the next best way is through...

Sora. Yeah, Sora. Sora, who might need some help right now. 

I pause. “Uh, could you tell me where Sora is, then? I’ll go help him out for you.”

Scratch at the back of my head. “While, you’re, you know, fighting your Darkness and stuff. Watch his back.”

“...Thanks.” Looks like it physically pains Riku to say that. Oh well. We’ll get that eventually. Then he points...up. Of course. 

“Just up?”

When he nods, my shoulder slump as I heave a sigh. “Of course. Well, see you later, I guess?”

“Bye.” Riku’s reply is curt. Clearly uncomfortable. 

Alright. I’ll leave then, before he explodes from awkward. Strange preteen boy. 

“Oh yeah, here you go!” I toss him a granola bar, underhanded. 

He just barely manages to catch the snack, fumbling it. Teal eyes stare. “Why...?”

I shrug, turn to the door so I can’t see his face. “You’ll need it, after you beat him.”

Wave two fingers at him, over my shoulder. 

“See you then.”

Go through the door and see...stairs. 

I heave a sigh. Again. Start climbing. Again. My leg’s gonna  _ hate  _ me after this, it’s already aching.

( _ Burning _ .)

Hm. Wonder what Sora’s up to right now. Other than, you know,  _ up _ . Heh. 

Probably nothing  _ too  _ interesting. 

* * *

“No...I’m  _ fading _ ? No, I can’t be! I refuse to die to a bunch of losers-!”

* * *

The higher up I go in the castle, the more vines there are. Thicker looking, too. They don’t move but...in the corner of my eye I swear there’s  _ something  _ moving that I can’t apparently catch moving if I look head-on at whatever it is. 

Lovely. Not really what I wanted in my life, but I can deal with it.

As long as I don’t touch the vines. 

Dusks everywhere too. Unfortunately. Good thing the squiggling jellyfish-things back off whenever I flare my Darkness. Leave me hungry, of course, and chomping down on my snacks like there’s not tomorrow. 

But at least the Dusks don’t attack. At least I can watch my feet. 

I last all the way up,  _ almost  _ to the top floor.  _ Almost.  _

I trip. Hit my head against the wall. 

“Fricking  _ ouch _ ,” I moan, rubbing at my forehead. Step closer to the door. Or, er,  _ try  _ to. I can’t move. 

What? I look down. 

The thorned vine  _ moved _ . Right around the foot I had just tripped over it with. Pulling. With a sudden jerk, I’m pulled up by my foot. Hanging upside down as the thorns crawl up to the ceiling. 

“Crap.”

A flash of weird light that causes my face to burn. Itch. A Nobody! But not a Dusk...too pink for that. Great. 

The rest of it, well, you know that already.

Don’t you?

“Frick.”

So, here I am where I started, hanging from the ceiling in a thorn trap. About to get my head chopped off by a Reaper. 

Not even a boss. A  _ Reaper _ .

Seriously?

Screw Marluxia, screw these vines, screw this entire  _ damn  _ castle!

I’m getting out of this!

No way out? Then I’ll make one!

What kills vines? Fire. (don’tthinkdon’tthink) No. How about...?

_ Ice.  _

Yes, that’s it. I can do ice, just did ice for Riku! That feeling...for ice, I need it. Now! Want! Out!

_ Determination _ .

That’s right. I want out!

Ice crackling around my legs, crackling through the vines. They squeeze briefly before they shatter. 

The Reaper swings its blade at me. Just manages to catch me across my back. “Ah!” I yelp, back arching up in response. 

Still falling. 

The Reaper’s following me. I don’t have any ranged! 

Falling...pretty far from the ceiling to the floor here, isn’t it? Might even end up paste from here. 

That’s not good. 

At least I don’t have a fear of heights, am I right? That would make this falling so much worse. Thinking, while the world falls around me. 

Reach out. Kinda a good thing I don’t have a sword anymore, this wouldn’t work with one. Shield’s better for this. 

Shield out. On my left, again. 

Curl up, so the entirety of the shield covers my body. 

Reaper there? Yep. Slicing at me. Can’t quite hit, when I’m curled up like this, so tight against the shield that no part is poking out. 

Then, I  _ hit.  _

Clang. Clang. Clang.

Boing boing I go. Bouncing along the floor on my shield. Until I eventually skid to a stop, momentum taken care of. Doesn’t hurt, surprisingly. My skeleton feels all shaken but nothing worse than that. 

Maybe falling damage really doesn’t exist in the Kingdom Hearts universe?

Cool! 

...Unless it’s a specific circumstances thing. Xion did almost fall off the clocktower and die, as did Roxas. Hm. Need to be careful, then. 

Buzzy bones. 

Reaper is gone. Why Reaper gone? There’s sounds of..shouting. Metal clanging. Fighting. 

Someone is fighting the Reaper. I should look. Can’t look. Everything shakes. 

I dismiss Frozen Pride from underneath me. Roll over just enough to stare up at the ceiling, chest heaving for breath. My throat feels rough. 

Cough a bit, cough cough. 

Got to breath. 

Ugh. Choke. Breath, not choke!

Sounds of fighting are gone now. I think?

There’s suddenly a familiar face in mine, with brown hair and bright blue eyes. 

“Uh, heya?” I hazard. My brain hurts. What’s his name again...?

Big blue eyes blink at me, right above my face.

“Why are you laying on the floor?” Sora peers down curiously at me. Right, that’s it, Sora. The name, I mean. 

“No reason. You okay?”

He looks away, tugging at the sleeve of his jacket. “...Fine.”

Turning my head over onto the floor, I can’t help but notice a black  _ goo  _ on his yellow shoes. A black goo that can’t help but remind me of...

(Blood on my hands.  _ Black  _ blood. Sudden heat- pain!)

I shake my head vigorously. Nothing to see there! Nothing but my brain rattling in my skull for some reason. Ouch. 

Thankfully, two duck feet move into my view to distract me. And once again, I am forced to be grateful to Donald Duck. Why does life keep setting me up like this? What a cruel world. 

“Why are you here?” Donald squawks, “You should be recovering!”

“But I am recovered! See?” I poke at my facial scar. Poke poke. 

“That’s...not recovered.” Donald’s bill is making an odd expression of disgust. I didn’t know it could squish like that! Huh. 

“Maybe you should go back,” Goofy suggests. 

I shake my head. “No way! I’ll  _ die _ goooing back, Nobodies everywhere!”

“But you’re not standing up,” Goofy points out, sounding very reasonable as he does so. 

Oh man, he’s right. I’m not standing up!

“I can! See!” I protest. 

And I do. Stand, I mean. The floor’s kinda moving, though, underneath me. The walls look funny and the ceiling is a lot closer than it was from the ground... My leg, the one that the thorns dug into doesn’t feel too good. 

And the dizziness is the  _ worst _ . 

“Look out!”

“Be careful!”

“Ruse!”

My face nearly meets the floor before Goofy manages to support my standing position. Arm around my shoulders, hand to my non-burned side. Thank you, Goofy. 

“You’re welcome.”

Oh. I said that out loud?

Donald shakes his head. Lifts his staff. “Cure!”

A jingle of bells and everything suddenly seems less heavy. The world’s still spinning, though. More than before. Why won’t it stop? Bells and everything. “Tanks.”

“Ruse...” Sora says. Looking very, very worried. “Maybe you should go back.”

“Naaaahhh,” I slur, “Can helllp. Just...more heals?”

Talking. But whatever it is can’t be important. What’s important is standing. And finding Naminé, can’t forget. Heh, forget. Everyone forgets her, right?

That girl...the forget girl. Forget me not girl. 

Huh. 

“Can you hear me?”

Hm?

My scars hurt. Why do my scars hurt? My face especially. The stink of flowers. Of roses. 

Someone new is here. Who is it?

Someone’s pulling me. Goofy throws his shield and a spell is cast but I can’t hear anything over the screaming in my head. 

And the pain in my arm, the one being yanked along. 

Words. Words I can’t understand over the screams. Ouch. Ouch. Am I screaming?

A gloved hand pulling at my arm. My bum arm, of course. What else would it be? Pulls me along into the Dark Corridor, where the pressure that squishes my lungs like grapes. Continues pulling me to the other side. 

Who could it be-?

Who am I kidding? I don’t even need to see that flash of pink to know who’s grabbed me. Who else would it be, at this point in the game?

My pure exasperation with the situation escapes me before I’m smart enough to fight it back down. 

“Ooooh my  _ goooosh, Marly _ .”


	13. Revolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we have a Knight in Shining Armor and Princess role-swap (from canon, at least), a very clever Mouse, and the triumph of Light over Dark...for now. Hey, What's Going On?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for physical abuse and general...bad times. Nothing bloody but someone is hurt with the intentions of getting information from them.

The virus taints the data of their mainframe with its sticky shadows and many reflections. Pieces of itself scattered out to consume, to tear apart the barriers that keep the creatures of Darkness out. Projections everywhere. 

Fragmenting the Guide’s avatar in the process. 

Programs, of all kinds, fight back. Of course. Scattering into more battle friendly formats, ripping through the shadows threatening to devour them. 

“They’re like...spiders,” The Modification observes, once the three of them draw close to such a battle between Program and virus. The Guide supposes so, to mortal eyes, the virus may look like a spider. Too many legs, too many red eyes, black, fuzzy, seeping...otherness. They are nearly close enough to join in the fight against that otherness. 

Hm.

The Guide examines the Card Program. A weak form for facing hostile invasion. A new format would be better for this task. 

They ask permission. The Card Program grants it. 

What would be suitable, to fight the virus, to defend the armored Modification?

A creature, one of those from Apprentice Ventus’ Journal, a monster he and the others faced on their travels before everything went so horribly wrong. That will do.

A Hareraiser, the Guide believes they are called. Same coloring as the Card Program’s past form, of course, better for Naminé to identify it as friendly. Fighting by her side to keep the virus clear with its ears and spins. 

The Guide steps on, and through, the nearest virus’ head. 

Crunching the abomination into bits under their heel. 

The Modification, _Naminé,_ has taken to the armor surprisingly well. Almost like she was made for wearing it. Light on her feet, careful to dance out of the way of every attack aimed at her. 

She uses small but stable Spells in her defense, whenever the virus draws too close. 

Something twitches in the Guide’s chest at the sight. 

Data, _memories_ , of kinder days threaten to overwhelm them. The chains of Oblivion are heavy. A weighty burden to bear, the collection of centuries. 

The Guide turns away, returning to crushing the virus projections under foot. Plans for the future, even as they take care of the now. 

Naminé is safe enough, with the altered Card Program by her side. Leaves space enough for the Guide’s processors to shuffle through various considerations. 

If Master Mickey will be taking on Users Riku and Sora as Apprentices...he might not be ready for a third. 

A pity. Naminé would make an excellent Apprentice. Quick to listen, keen on fixing her mistakes, possessing great control over her own powers. Reminds them of Master Aqua and Apprentice Terra both, though moreso of Master Aqua when it comes to fine control.

Naminé certainly has enough will to hold a Keyblade. 

It is a shame that the Guide cannot gift her what should be hers, judging by the strength of her slowly growing heart and connections. 

Creations of Data cannot have Keyblades, after all. Their hearts are too weak, too delicate, compared to natural born hearts. The Guide of Departure has never been able to wield a Keyblade and never will. The most they can manage is a remarkable lookalike of the Keyblade to Departure. 

But nothing real. Never anything real. 

The Guide much prefers fighting with data constructs anyway. They don’t need a Keyblade, not when they have had generations upon generations of foolhardy Keyblade Warriors to watch over and protect. 

The virus constructs die down. All over their mainframe, the Guide can feel the virus being brought down to more manageable levels. Levels the Guide can leave to the Programs, rather than having their avatar go personally. 

They turn to Naminé, to the Program by her side. The two watching them. 

New information, updates, on the state of Castle Oblivion. All shafted to the side while in the middle of battle. Yes, the Guide could have taken them. They’re an AI, after all, and skilled in the art of doing many tasks at once. 

Yet every fragment had to go to fighting the virus back. Now, with the fighting died down...attentions can be split once more. They examine the data, and consider...should it be shared?

The Guide has watched, yes, for a very long time. Yet...

Perhaps the Guide has spent too much time only watching. Perhaps it is time to take a more active role, in this changing world. 

Time to fight back. To be a more active assistant to those outside their Master. At least until the Master returns. 

They will share what they have become newly aware of, thanks to the clearing of the majority of the virus. Some remains, but it should be manageable at this point. 

Guild Leader Lauriam still needs to be disposed of, of course. Before he releases further viruses, causes more chaos. 

Sharing this information should hopefully serve to that end. 

“Your friend, _Ruse_ , is in the possession of the one you name Marluxia.”

Naminé goes very, very still. Not even breathing stillness. 

“I...I have to help her!”

“What can you do?” The Guide inquires, with honest curiosity. “You have no weapon, no Black Magic beyond the barest minimum. You go, you will run the risk of being captured yourself and this effort will have gone to naught.”

Naminé’s armored helm tilts downward. Away from the Guide’s own patient gaze. 

The Card Program twitches its new long ears. 

“It is only the truth.” Why is the Guide defending themselves against a stray, disobedient Program? There is nothing to apologize for!

Simply the truth, as they stated. 

“...I’m worthless then.” Naminé’s quiet voice draws the Guide out of their staring at the Card Program’s red frowning eyes. 

Oh...is that the root of the Card Program’s objection to their words? This “worthless” idea? 

“You are not worthless,” the Guide states. They hesitate...but some words must be shared. “I will assist you. It will do no good for the Replica to be in Marluxia’s hands when User Sora goes up against him.”

Naminé’s head jerks up. “Sora’s there too?!”

“He will be.” The Guide weaves their fingers together, before them. Allows their mimicry of Master Aqua’s armor to fade away into coded nothingness. 

The Card Program trembles. Ears waving and wagging much like their tail did of the last shape it took. 

Naminé steps forward. Her newly armored boots click. “You’ll help me?”

The Guide inclines their head. “I will. But first, let us make a plan...”

* * *

My brain is veery fuzzy right now. 

The heavy perfume in the air isn’t helping. Can it be considered perfume, this flowery aura, when it’s not actual physical perfume? Just flowers, lots of flowers? Food for thought.

Food. That doesn’t sound good right now. Dizzy and rising nausea. Bad. 

Bleh. I stick my tongue out.

I’m sitting on the floor. Sitting, not standing. I don’t think I can stand standing. Heh. Stand standing. Funny. 

Marluxia brought me here, to this wide white room with the orb in the center, the one from all of the cutscenes. Brought me here and just...left me. Huddling on the ground, trying to stop the aching in my brain pan. Pressing my hands to my head does not seem to be working, for some reason. 

Oh, and there’s Reapers in here too. Guess I should mention those. 

Floating around, watching me with the eyes they haven’t got. bobbing like...bobbing like...

I frown. 

“Not app-puls. No water. But whaat bobs?”

What bobs?

Uh...

“Jellyfish.” I nod wisely. My brain bounces so I stop nodding. Uuuh. 

The Reapers look awfully lonely. And it’s so quiet in here. Maybe I should start singing them a song?

“And I said, heey, heey, hey hey. Heeeey Hey hey hey. I said, Hey!” I belt out, “What’s going on!”

The Reapers are twitching more now. Maybe they like it?

The tapping of boots on the floor. 

Um. Maybe I should stop singing. So I do. My brain hurts more now, maybe that wasn’t a good idea. 

A lot of this wasn’t a good idea, really.

Something cracks...over my skull? Like an egg, tricking white liquid into my hair. Chases away the pain, the irritation thoughts, the struggle to think. 

The pressure in my skull lessens. 

Yay, I can think rationally and I’m not in pain again! Wait, where am I again?

...

 _Oh no_ , I can think rationally and I’m not in pain again. For now. 

This bodes well. 

There’s blue eyes looking me over. Considering. 

The stink in the air strengthens. Thickens, until I’m nearly choking on it, tasting it in the back of my throat. I cough. 

Cough and cough. 

Cough until I can finally suck some air in. 

So heavy...maybe this is what Repel is like? Me wanting to run away from this stink. Holy crap, what if the secret to Repel is Marluxia’s flowers?

...I think I’d rather go without, then. Heartless are fine, in comparison to this.

“Time for a question, now you’re no longer Stunned.”

Fingers dig into my wrist, digging me out of my thoughts at the same time. Of course, it’s the right one. The _burnt_ one. Painfully squeezing the two bones in it together. Pulling me up, so my entire weight is on that shoulder at the same time. 

“Ah!”

“Now, I’ll only ask this once.” Marluxia smiles. Almost pleasantly, if not for the fact that he’s in the process of grinding my wrist bones into dust. “Where is Naminé?”

There’s a whimpering sound. I think it’s me.

The tight grip loosens up, just enough for the pain to lessen. But still holding me up, onto my feet, barely above where my feet would touch ground. Fingers tap at my wrist, my lower palm. “Well?”

“I don’t know.”

His eyes narrow at me. The smile drops away. “Tell me,” he commands. Starts tightening his hold, ever so slowly. Painfully. 

Squeezes tears out of my eyes too. 

“I told you, I don’t know! I was looking for her and thought Sora might run into her!” I’m not screaming, but I want to. Very much. 

My teeth dig into my lips, keeping the screams in. Stuck in my throat. He might make it worse, if I scream right into his ear. 

“How...annoyingly plausible.”

His hand releases my wrist. Drops me onto my feet. I stumble, just barely managing not to fall over. Clutch at my pained wrist, wheezing. My body shakes. Head to toe, uncontrollably. 

“Axel said that he disposed of you. Obviously, he was incorrect.” Marluxia looks at me, me in my frazzled, injured state. His lip lifts slightly. Disgusted by it. By _me._

Like he isn’t the cause of that frazzled pain, of these lasting injuries of mine. I _know_ who gave those orders and though Axel didn’t have to follow them, someone still gave them in the first place. 

I know who hurt Naminé. 

I narrow my eyes at him. My jaw works as I hold back my anger. My slowly building rage. This Nobody...he has to go. Otherwise this will never end. 

“Until that is corrected, you’ll serve well as bait.”

Bait? I don’t like the sound of that. I like even less the fact that it’ll _work._

He removes his glove. His uncovered hand...it’s not flesh and blood. With horrified eyes, I watch as reddish-pink plant tendrils unfurl from their forced shape. All five stubs. Spreading their spines from their formly flattened state. Not the huge thorns and briars covering the rest of this cursed castle, but more like...

Furry. Fuzzy spines. A thistle. 

Holy crap, he has thistle fingers. Plant hands. 

For once in my life so far, the Dark Suit actually protects me, from the small prickles as Marluxia wraps his revealed hand around my wrist once more. 

I flinch. Can’t help it. Anger turns cold, not replaced by fear, but partner to it. 

Look, thistles _hurt,_ okay? Worst sting, from plants at least. And I’m fully aware I shouldn’t be scared of a few prickles when I just had my wrist nearly broken, was set on fi-

Yeah. Sue me. I’m not for getting thorns and plant bits sticking in my skin. 

At least the Dark Suit is _actually being useful_.

Marluxia, thankfully, takes no notice of my flinch. He drags me closer, fingers digging ever deeper into me. Grabs my other hand with his gloved one, pulling it up til it’s side by side with the wrist he's already holding onto. 

The needles on that exposed hand _grow._ I can’t look away as they stretch out into thorny tendrils. Much like the ones on the walls, around my wrists. Tying my hands together, in the front. Threatening to sink right through the rubbery material tight against my skin. 

I don’t struggle. Petrified. 

That done, Marluxia tugs his glove back on. Tendrils of...something move in the shadows of his sleeves. 

“Don’t try to escape. You’ll regret it.”

Smiles a smug, satisfied smile. I want to punch him. Real bad. Scared to, at the same time. 

“They’ll come soon. Then, your purpose will be fulfilled.”

Sweeps around all dramatic-like, into a Dark Corridor. 

Once he’s gone...I reach for the Darkness. Right away.

Wouldn’t you?

But in response, my vine chains _swell._ Eat up my Dark, prevent even a speck escaping through for me to make a portal with. Leaves me _starving_ and with no portal. No escape route. Trapped. 

I glance down at my wrists. My burning, aching wrists, which hurt the more I sit here. Brambles sinking in deeper and deeper. 

I _really_ hope this doesn’t end up a “need to dig a foot of blackberry vine growing in my flesh out of me” story like I’ve heard of happening before. 

Ugh. 

Shiver at the thought. 

The Dark Suit soaks up my blood. Most of it. Looking intently, all my focus used up, I can barely catch the very light red drops welling up. 

_Very_ light. 

Shake my wrists, the briars clench around them tighter. “Ah!”

The blood drips. When it lands on the white floor, it very much stands out. 

“Oh...worm.”

Not red after all, even if concentrated it seems similar. For some reason. 

_Green_. 

Light green. 

I swallow my bile, forcing it back down into my stomach. Not human. I already knew this, replicas mimic but don’t quite match up. According to canon, the vast majority of replicas were empty puppet bodies. Nothing more, nothing less. Makes sense that they would have a different make-up than humans, especially if Nobodies in this universe look very different from their Somebody selves. 

Intellectually, very logical. 

In my gut...

Well. There’s green blood on the floor and it came from my arm. The emotions that come from that realization...aren’t pleasant, to say the least. 

_Replicas aren’t real people, after all._

With some effort, I finally pull my eyes away from the green splotch. Keep my sight focused on the Reapers surrounding me, swishing their skirts and clutching at their scythes. 

_Incredibly_ inhuman looking. What were they like, as people? Did they laugh, did they love, did they do people things?

...Were they happy?

I let air whistle out between my teeth. “Well, if you were...I don’t think you are now,” I say out loud, to my captive audience. Or am I the captive audience, since I’m the one tied up here?

Should I try ice? Hm, afterwards it would be hard to run away with five Reapers in the room. When I couldn’t even manage a pack of Dusks earlier.

All I can do, I guess, is wait. If I don’t want the Reapers to attack me, or Marluxia to come back to hurt me some more...

Wait for a hero. Wait for Sora. Wait for him to defeat Marluxia. 

Wait to be used as a very visible hostage. 

Gah, I hate this! “So hopeless. Helpless.”

Slump against the wall. What can I do? Anything, to serve as a decent distraction. A warmth by my heart, so at least Naminé’s okay...

How about...another song? Yeah. That should be okay. I hope. Anything. 

Start singing again. Quieter, this time. 

“~I pray every day, for a revolution...”

* * *

Axel...Mickey’s not sure what to do about him. 

He hurt Ruse _really_ badly. But he hasn’t made any more aggressive moves since then. Maybe it’s just self-preservation...

But maybe the lack of him attacking is something else. 

The door on the far side opens and...Riku walks through. “Riku!” Mickey cheers. Excellent! He’s here!

“Oh, look, you’ve got a friend. Now I’ll just take my leave-”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Riku raises his sword over his head in a battle stance, pointing it at the Organization member. “Not with what you’ve done.”

Axel holds his hands. “C’mon. You and I both know that your replica would have gone after you sooner or later. I just took care of it for you. They’re gone now, no risk.”

Riku opens his mouth. About to correct Axel on Ruse’s aliveness. 

Only for Mickey to catch his eye and shake his head. 

Riku looks slightly confused but turns away. Says nothing about Ruse. 

“I need to fight...the Darkness in my heart.”

Pauses. Mickey fills the space with a promise, rather than let it last. Let it hurt Riku. 

“You’ll never let the Darkness get the best of you, Riku, I know it!” He smiles. Nods to Riku. The boy relaxes in response to the support. Like he was expecting Mickey to turn him away. 

No, never. They’re friends. Mickey wouldn’t do that to Riku. 

“You sure about that? The Darkness can be pretty tough...” Axel butts in. 

Riku _glares_ at him. “Shut up. You...you _hurt Sora_.”

Axel blinks. Those eyes...now Mickey knows a _bit_ about humans. There are so many worlds where all there are humans, after all! But he’s pretty sure humans don’t have eyes like that, filled to the brim with color. Slitted. And that pale, pale skin...

Yeah, there’s something _off_ about the Organization. Other than the Darkness they use. 

“Hurt him? Didn’t lay a finger on him.”

Hm. There’s something in that...

“Sora was there, watching, wasn’t he?” Mickey checks.

“Yeah. Your point?”

There’s no understanding there, even as Riku grinds his teeth and seems to be visibly fighting back the urge to attack Axel. No idea why Riku would be concerned by Sora seeing two people burning alive in front of him. 

That means _something._

Mickey doesn’t hum. Doesn’t do anything to show how deeply he’s thinking about this. “Geeze, that’s awful! Seeing someone go like that...”

Axel raises his hands. “Look, we don’t like each other. Fine! How about you just let me go then?”

Then, he shuts up.

Maybe the angry stares Riku shoots at him are giving him the hint not to say anymore. “I’ll...fix this. Mickey, I’m going to get my Darkness under control and then... _you_.”

Axel rolls his eyes. 

Mickey fights the urge to shove him. Luckily Riku didn’t catch the movement otherwise a fight _would_ have broken out right then and there. Which Mickey can’t have happen, that Darkness of Riku’s...it’s strong, ready to break out. If they fight, then...Mickey can’t lose RIku to Darkness. Not like that. 

“I’ll take care of this. Go fight, Sora needs you.”

Enough to convince Riku to move on, to continue his fight against the Dark that Mickey can practically sense seething under his skin. 

Riku nods to Mickey one last time. Glares at Axel as well. Turns and holds up a card. The door before him grinds open and when Riku goes in, it closes behind him with one final-sounding thud. 

Leaving Mickey and Axel behind. 

Axel...now what to do about him?

Mickey taps his foot against the floor. Hums. Now...he might just let the Organization member go. 

Now, it might be dangerous to let Axel survive. It most definitely is a risk. 

But as a King and student of Master Yen Sid, Mickey’s learned a few things about strategy. 

One, controlling information is the first and best move in an unknown situation. The Organization has already proven themselves a threat, but Mickey doesn’t know very much about them. Not yet. 

Other than a few facts: they’re interested in the Keyblade, use Darkness, show little remorse over murder, and there are probably more of them than the ones faced in this Castle. 

(And they’re not very human, though they sorta look like it. They’re... _other._ )

Not a lot and Mickey knows they need to learn more. _He_ needs to learn more, if he’s going to protect the boys, his kingdom, and the rest of the worlds from these new enemies. 

Second, letting an enemy go means you can follow them later. Seeing who Axel meets later will alert him to other Organization members, to places that the Organization is interested in. More information to bring to his allies later. 

Third...well, the third is more of a feeling. An emotion rather than an actual strategy. But Mickey doesn’t really want to kill anyone in cold blood. Even if that someone had nearly killed an innocent who hadn’t deserved it. But Ruse hadn’t shown any desire to go after Axel, so...

So he’ll let the man go. Watch. Wait. 

Mickey turns away to watch Riku’s door. Knowing that when he turns back, it’s very possible that the redhead will no longer be there. 

Riku...the door to the room he’s in, glows and flashes. With Dark and Light. Mickey wants nothing more than to rush in, but...

Riku needs to know his strength. Needs to know how strong he _really_ is, the strength that Mickey _knows_ that he has. 

If the Darkness grows too strong...well, the Mouse King will step in. He won’t let Riku fall to Darkness, not when...not after what happened to Aqua. To Ventus. 

Mickey swallows. Pushing back the memories. He’ll save her one day, one day his searches in the Dark will bear fruit. Find Ventus too. Mickey _has_ to. 

He saw her once, when the Door to Darkness needed to be sealed, but...his gloved hand tightens into a fist. Should have been more careful, should have been stronger. Not let them be separated. 

He’ll find her. He’ll find all of them. One day. 

Mickey watches. Waits. 

Riku can do this. He has faith in him. 

* * *

One moment I’m huddled up, arms wrapped around my legs. Singing as many words as I can remember of...er, what is that song called again? Not ‘What’s going on,’ um...

Well, one moment I’m on the floor. Pausing my song to think. 

Trying not to drip blood on the floor. To add to the green stains there. 

The next, I’m somehow on my feet, a pink blade held up to my throat. A hand on my shoulder, a coated body against my back. Cold. Flower petals falling about me. 

Holy _crap._

Well, Sora’s here. Goofy and Donald in defensive stances by his side, as the boy holds his Keyblade out in an aggressive pose. 

“Let her go!”

Marluxia gives a far from humours laugh. Cold and chilling. “Surrender and perhaps I will, Hero of Light. _Sora_.”

Not to be a drag or anything...but this seems a little off. And yes, I know I’m mostly thinking about this now to distract myself from the cold steel at my neck. 

Shouldn’t Naminé be the hostage here? Shouldn’t Marluxia be trying to make Naminé wipe Sora’s memories instead of the far more risky act of getting Sora to back down with a Replica-hostage? He has to know that Sora knows I’m not Riku, not with these scars. 

Where’s Naminé?

What have I changed?

...Hm. No Axel either. Something’s afoot. Where could the assassin be?

Breathing is hard, with how tight the blade is against me. Marluxia’s grip is just as tight. 

“You won’t hurt her, if I stop?” Sora’s question is quiet. Loud in the silence of the room, past the heavy sound of my own breathing in my ears. 

“Of course not. Simply lay down your weapons, and I won’t hurt this puppet.”

Nothing about letting me go, I can’t help but notice. Hm. Typical villain fare. 

“Ruse is not a puppet!” 

A flash of white. I feel that body against mine knocked away from me, scythe almost ripped out of his hands by a sudden drop from above. 

“Let her go!” A cold hand, a _metal_ hand takes me by the arm and tugs me away. Quickly, before Marluxia has a chance to recover. 

An armored figure...that _armor_ looks like _Ven’s_. Only white. Breaking apart and fading before my very eyes. 

Revealing underneath a very familiar white dress, blond hair and blue eyes. 

I can’t stop the name from escaping my mouth. “Naminé!”

“Ruse!”

I make to...wait, I can’t hug her. My arms are still in vine-chains, still tearing me apart. Ouch. Painful, but now a pain I can start paying attention to again, now that I’m no longer in Marluxia’s possession. 

Ugh. Bad term. Marluxia’s _grip._ Better. 

“You’re Naminé?” Sora steps towards us, eyes turned away from the enemy. 

“Yes.” Naminé gives a quick nod. 

The enemy decides to be very loud and obnoxious as he gets back onto his feet, to gain our attention again. 

“You dare defy me? I am Lord of Castle Oblivion!”

“I didn’t vote for you!” I shout back, the adrenaline of narrowly escaping a terrible fate running hot in my veins. 

Marluxia snarls at me, hefting up his scythe. The Graceful Dahlia, I think it’s called? 

“ _Ruse_.” Naminé hisses in my ear. My heart gives an uncomfortable lurch. 

Hmm. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that. 

“Naminé...you will regret disobeying!”

I feel her flinch more than see it. 

“Don’t you talk to her like that!” I yell back. 

Marluxia growls and sweeps out his Graceful Dahlia at us. Only to be caught, stopped right in his tracks by a simple Keyblade. 

“You won’t hurt them!”

Sora pushes Marluixa back and swipes with his weapon. Marluxia’s body curves around the Keyblade as he slices back. Donald and Goofy both disappear with loud cries into flurries of light. 

My eyes just barely catch the glow of cards, in their hands, shooting at each other, before Naminé draws me away to the back of the room. 

Out of sight, out of reach, out of mind. 

Those speeds...I laugh to myself, shaking my head. There’s no way I could match up to those battle speeds. Not at this point. 

The fight...I pull my eyes away to Naminé. Naminé who looks so much...brighter than she used to.

Smiling a small smile at me. 

“Thank you.”

Her blush could power an entire neighborhood. “Don’t thank me! I had to.”

“But I will.” I smile back. “Thank you.” 

Wiggle my fingers. “Now, should we get me out of these cuffs?”

“All right. Let me...” Naminé’s hands draw close to mine. But before they can touch, a loud _screech_ invades the room. 

We both whirl around to catch Marluxia stumbling back, scythe gone, clutching at his middle. 

Sora heaves out heavy breathes, Goofy and Donald are once again physically present.

“We’ve got you!”

Huh. Stage One is done, huh?

Once the Nobody’s faded into flower petals and shadow, Sora turns to us, a bright smile on his face. 

“He’s done.”

Before he can say anything more, though, a certain Nobody interrupts. Again. 

“You could say that. But what you’ve destroyed...” the Nobody’s voice echoes throughout the entire room. The trio freeze, like Naminé does, all frantically looking for the source. 

The vines throughout the room vibrate with their master’s voice. 

“Was a mere imitation of me! No more, no less. Face me in the Castle’s heart!”

Sora looks over his shoulder at us. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of this!” 

“We’ll be waiting,” Naminé says in reply.

He nods, determined in every inch of his bearing. “We’ll talk, Naminé, after.”

“Yes. We will.” 

That done, he turns with the rest of his team and they rush through the door before them. The door that glows pink as it opened, vines drawing back in a curtain. 

Once all three are through....it closes again with final-sounding thud. 

Now...the final battle begins. The end draws near. 

And...I’m not dead. I have no plans to wander off, to listen to Axel, to go hunt down Riku uselessly. So, unless something else unplanned occurs, I guess...this Riku Replica gets to live to the end. 

Whoa. 

I sit down with a heavy thud. 

“Ruse!” Naminé gives out a short cry, rushing to kneel by my side. To take my still chained hands in her own. Before I can say anything, she narrows her eyes and speaks a single word: “Fire!”

Hot. _Hot._ Hot on my wrists, heat right through my Dark Suit. Eating away at me. Down to the _bone_. 

Nononono.

Nononono.

Not. Again. Nononono. 

“-use. _Ruse,_ can you hear me?” 

The heat, it’s _gone._ I breath, ragged and heavy. Fingers curling in on themselves. Big blue eyes looking worriedly into mine. Her glow is awfully bright, I can’t help but notice. 

“I’m _sorry_ , I _hurt_ you. Where are the burns?” She examines the vines, my wrists. The vines, which are scorched, but not gone. My wrists...which are untouched but for the thorns sinking into them. 

“No burns?”

I can’t help but breath a sigh of silent relief at that. Painful, but at least I’m _not burning._

Shake my head. Throat works. No words come. Can’t talk. 

“Um, I could try Fire again?” Naminé poses. 

She jerks slightly back at my fervent, violent head-shakes. Still can’t talk. No words will come. 

“Oh, _oh_ . I see. I...no Fire. Okay. No Fire.” Carefully, Naminé reaches out again. To dig her fingers _into the thorns._

I make to jerk back but her grip is too tight. Can’t pull free with tearing the thorns into her flesh too.

No, I don’t want to hurt her! I still, watching her anxiously. No blood. Not yet. 

Each motion she makes is slow, easy to follow with my eyes. Pulling the thorns free, even as they twitch and try to tear back into my body. Even with the pain it must cause her. 

Hurts. Hurts _a lot._ Feel tears come to my eyes, but I blink them back. 

“Let me try.” My voice is rough, but it comes. At last. 

Naminé looks up at me. “Are you sure?” Her fingers are still twisted in the vines. 

I nod my head. “Yeah. I’ll try Ice.”

Naminé brightens quite literally at that, her glow strengthening to something just barely bearable to my eyes. “I’ll do it too! _Blizzard_.”

As for my part, I don’t say any words, only focus on the thread of determination in my gut. Naminé will not hurt anymore for me, because of me. 

I’ll fix this. 

The Ice comes from both of us steadily. Eating away the thorns into shriveled nothingness, icy dust dropping from my wrists. Slowly, I tug my hands free of Naminé’s and just as slowly, she lets me. 

I stretch out my gloved hands with a relieved sigh. “Finally.”

Now, to check on the other part of the equation here...

“Are you okay?” I ask anxiously, eyes running over Naminé’s hands. Her marked, yet bloodless, hands. Are Nobodies naturally tougher? If so...that explains a lot about the Organization. Too much, actually. Her glow’s down again too, thankfully. For some reason. 

Green drips down blue material, from the cuts in it. 

“You’re bleeding.”

Naminé seems more concerned about the bleeding part than by the color of the blood in question. Guess it makes sense, she’s never really seen someone bleed in person. Not if she herself does not bleed so easily. Doesn’t know normal humans have red blood, not any in different colors. 

Doesn’t know how _unnatural_ I am. 

Her hands reach out for mine, but I pull back. 

“I’ll be fine,” I reassure her. Hold up my wrists. “See?” The green seeps out but the bleeding’s already slowing down. The holes closing up in my wrists. 

Didn’t even need a Save Point. 

Looks like I don’t _heal_ like regular people do either. Makes sense, I suppose. Normal people don’t get up and start walking around a couple hours after...

Losing half of their body to fire. Getting fried from the outside in. 

There. I said it. Now, I’m not going to think about it _ever again._

No more fire. I’ll be fine. Perfectly fine. 

I look away from my hands, just in time to meet Naminé’s eyes. Her widening eyes as she takes in, clearly, what a mess my face is now. The _scars._

“Ruse...” Naminé’s hand goes up to the right side of my face. Fingers hovering above the scars, not quite touching. “What happened?” She whispers. 

“It...” I turn my head. Away from that blue _pity._ In process, though, my scarred cheek presses into those waiting fingers. Cold. 

But I don’t move away. Let her touch stay. 

“Doesn't matter. I lived, that’s what does.” I try on a weak smile that itches at my lips. 

“Tell me, what happened?” Naminé repeats. “Who _hurt you_?”

There’s a sharp edge to her voice, one I’ve never heard before. In this life or the last.

“Don’t worry. What happened...won’t happen again.” As far as I know of. In canon, I’m pretty Axel didn’t...do _that_ again after Vexen. Maybe even regretted it later. 

I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. 

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

At last, those cold fingers draw away from my face. I find myself...missing the touch, as uncomfortable it was. It’s fine. It’s fine. Has to be fine. 

I sniffle. Wetness on my cheeks now, felt mostly on the left. The right is numb, without the chill of Naminé’s hand. “Why do I always find myself crying around you?” I ask, only half-joking. 

“I’m _sorry_.” Naminé curls up on herself, hands wrapped around each other in her lap. 

“Not your fault. It just...is.”

Like my scars, like Sora fighting against an enemy who seeks to obliterate him, like Riku fighting an enemy who will possess him if he loses...everything simply _is._ No changing these circumstances, no matter how much I may wish to. 

The worlds depend on children to save them and they shouldn’t. 

How...cruel. How perfectly JRPG of them. 

I look at this small, crumpled blond girl in front of me. A girl who believes she shouldn’t exist, who destroyed a boy’s memory out of loneliness, who will sacrifice the only warmth she’s ever known in exchange for doing the right thing.

Only to die shortly after her self-appointed task is through.

 _Happy_ to stop existing. 

Gone through so much pain in her short life. 

“I wish it wasn’t like this. You deserve better than this.” The tears flow freely, trickling down my neck, my throat, from my face. 

I close my eyes and let them run.

My heart twinges. I can’t tell if it’s from me, or from the girl sitting next to me. Does it matter?

A whisper. So quiet, I’m not even sure that I actually heard it in the first place. 

“So do you.”

_I’m sorry._

* * *

“Very well. You shall sink into the abyss!”

Ansem...is the most difficult enemy Riku’s ever faced. He’s never there whenever Riku slashes out with Soul Eater, always behind him. Forever out of reach. 

Mocking him. Calling forth his strange Heartless minion. 

“Come, Guardian!”

Never quite fast enough. Always a step behind. 

“ _Isn’t it the same with Sora, now? Once you were ahead...now you are always behind.”_

_“Weak! You cannot fight the Darkness!”_

_“Why try? You can’t fix anything you’ve broken.”_

Voices. Whispers, that sound like Ansem, Maleficent, Zexion, like...himself. Doubts and fears, a thousand things. 

Leaves him doubtful...hanging in the air as the Guardian swats him down. 

“Ah!”

Riku falls. Hurts, hitting the floor that hard. 

“Why do you fight, boy?” Ansem looks down on him, floating. Arms folded over his chest. “Reject the Darkness?”

Riku hisses in pain, hand patting at his shoulder. _Hurts._ A lot. 

“Your struggles only cause your suffering to continue. Give in and the pain will end.”

“I won’t let use my body to hurt people!” Riku shouts. Almost a scream, tearing its way free of his chest. 

Yellow eyes watch him, half-closed. “You have no need to worry about that. Not once I have claimed what is mine.”

The stink of rot is strong. Too strong. Heavy on Riku, almost weighing him down into the ground of their battlefield. 

Something digs into his waist as he rolls over onto his side, hands about to dig into the floor. A feeling in his heart...he pauses, stops to let his fingers go down to brush whatever it is...a granola bar. 

(“You’ll need it, after you beat him.”)

Like Riku winning was already a conclusion. A casual belief, like Sora’s faith, that hope his best friend placed in him. 

(“And Kairi. And Mickey. And a lot of other people. We’re counting on you.”)

A voice, a memory. From someone who never thought he would hear her, but encouraged anyway.

(“You can do it, Riku.”)

Sora’s voice. Bright and believing. Never doubting. Even after Riku hurt him. 

(“Can’t fix it, dummy. But you can say sorry. That’s a good start!”)

Kairi, scolding him and welcoming him in the same breath, after a mistake. A true friend. 

(“The light’ll never give on you!”)

The King, _Mickey_ , friendly and offering him a hand in the deepest dark. 

There are people that need him. 

Riku can’t give up. Not yet. Not _ever._

“Why fight?”

“My friends. I fight so you won’t hurt them!”

“Foolishness.” Ansem sneers, like he’s done with every mention of friendship in his hearing. “They’ll turn on you, for the Dark you carry in your heart. They may say they support you now, yet...”

Ansem shakes his head, silver hair going back and forth with the motion. 

“They’ll leave you for what you are. What you’ve _done_. You cannot trust them.”

Is the Heartless right? Will his friends leave, because Riku screwed up so badly?

Mickey. Mickey knew Riku had the Darkness inside of him, but didn’t hate him for it. Still called Riku friend.

DiZ had Darkness, but he...helped. Grumpy as he was, he helped anyway. 

Ruse used Darkness. Relied on it, even, to wake up again from her injuries. She had attacked him, yes, but he was starting to think it was for reasons other than Darkness. 

A girl, when Riku was a boy. When Ruse is supposed to be a second Riku. 

Maybe things didn’t have to be black and white, Dark and Light. 

Maybe having the Dark inside of him...

Didn’t mean what Ansem said it meant. 

Riku breathes. Slowly rises to his feet. 

Maybe Ansem is _wrong._

“You’re wrong! I trust them!”

The Guardian is _right_ there. Riku slices and the creature roars, exploding into shadow. He goes for Ansem next. 

The hit, packed with all of the Dark power he can give it, lands. 

Ansem staggers. Fall from the air onto his knees. His yellow eyes are bright but the bright of dying embers. His form...breaks and shimmers. Vanishing once again. 

“I... gave... you the Dark. My shadow...it lingers. I will...return!”

With that, the Heartless is gone. Leaving that final promise. 

Is he right? Will he be back?

Even if he will be...Riku will never stop fighting him. That Darkness. He lifts his head and walks out of the battlefield he picked for his heart. 

Mickey cheers up at the sight of him, on the other side. 

But someone’s missing. 

“Where’s the Organization member? The redhead?” Riku asks. 

The Mouse King does a double take. Searches the room, briefly. Mickey scratches at the back of his head. “Gosh. When you were finishing up, I guess he just slipped away...”

Hm. That can’t be good. But hopefully the redhead won’t go hurt Sora. Or anyone. “Is Sora okay?”

Mickey smiles. “Why don’t you go ask him yourself?”

“You mean...?”

The smile widens on that face, eyes crinkling from the force of it. “Sora should be safe now. That man, DiZ, let me know through some castle thingamajig. Want to go see him again?”

“Of course,” Riku breathes. He doesn’t deserve to see Sora...but he wants to. One last time, before he...

He’ll make it up to Sora with everything he’s got. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The green blood: the coloring is actually a thing for both worms and leeches. Which both have incredible regenerative abilities, hm? The chemical makeup of that blood is incredibly similar to that of red/iron-based blood, just slightly off...like how a replica is just slightly off from a normal human. Does that mean Xion has green or red blood, since she's not a Prototype like Ruse? Who knows...
> 
> Hope my Mickey was okay... *sighs* he's hard to write.


	14. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which this Chain of Memories comes to an end.

So much has changed, in the short amount of time she and Ruse have been apart. 

Not much, Naminé can’t help but think, for the better. At least for Ruse. 

They sit, side by side, against the wall. Watching the door that Sora went through, to fight Marluxia. Well, Ruse’s watching the door. Naminé watches Ruse instead. Trying to figure out what she missed. 

Some of it is obvious. 

The scars, for one. That’s what they _have_ to be, on Ruse’s face. She didn’t have them before, and they don’t come off at the touch. 

Deep, dark black-purple marks stretch up from two lines on her throat, breaking off in jagged patterns much like Thunder bolts that curve under her right eye socket, across her cheek, and out to the corner of her lips. Lighter grayish-purple flesh surrounds those black Thunder-looking scars, livid, swallowing up almost the entirety of her head’s right side. Including her right ear. Her hair...mostly gone on that side. Patchy at best around the edges of it. 

They look like...look like they hurt. Getting them. 

Did Larxene hurt her, for trying to defend Naminé? Shock her into oblivion? Or was it another Organization member that attacked her?

Naminé stifles a sob. “I’m sorry.”

Ruse turns her newly-glowing eyes on her. Still indigo, but _glowing_ now. “Don’t say that, it’s not your fault.”

Is it? 

“I’m sorry that it happened to you.” That they hurt you. 

“Where did you go, Naminé? After...Larxene grabbed you.” Ruse taps the fingers of her left hand on the floor. Her right, Naminé can’t help but notice, has been awfully still. Stiff.

Naminé pulls her knees up to her chest. “I went back to drawing memories. I made a card for Marluxia and then while he was using it...Axel let me go.”

“He did, did he?” Ruse doesn’t appear surprised at all by that, pursing her lips in thought. “What then? Where did you get the armor from?”

“There’s someone called the Guide here. She...helped me. Gave me the armor, told me of a way to save you. I need to thank her.”

“They.”

Naminé looks over. “What?”

“They. The Guide is a they,” Ruse clarifies. “They like using they better than she or he.”

“You _know_ her? No, _they_ .” Or is it _them?_

Ruse leans back against the wall, half closing her eyes. Dimming the blue light coming from them. “The Guide never gave me any armor, so I guess you’re their favorite.” 

She reaches over, to pat Naminé on the shoulder. Grinning with her eyes open all the way once more. “That’s super cool, by the way. Best rescue ever!”

Her left hand gestures wildly. Circular. The right remains lowered at Ruse’s side. 

“Coming in, a total knight in glowing armor, really awesome. And got me right out of there, so Sora could get in there!”

Ruse may be smiling, may be talking and talking like she always does, but it’s all a _ruse._ A mask to hide the truth. 

The cold pain in Naminé’s chest tells her so. The shiver of that stiff right hand speaks louder than any words Ruse can say. Another change, one far less visible. 

Can she do anything? If Ruse is hiding it, then she doesn’t want to tell Naminé what’s wrong. She’ll...she’ll wait, Naminé decides. She’ll wait for Ruse to tell her and do her best in the meantime. 

That fear, that pain, on Ruse’s face when in Marluxia’s grasp...she never wants to see that again. Never. 

But back to that information on the Guide...

Ruse knows the Guide (a little) and the Guide is a they, not a girl. What does that mean, though?

“If a she is a girl and a he is a boy...what’s a they?” Naminé taps at her chin. 

“Neither. Both.” Ruse shrugs. “You can look like a girl or a boy and not be either of those. Just...someone else entirely. Outside of two choices.”

More than two choices...what an idea. All of her short existence, Naminé has had only one. Still only has one. A Nobody. _Kairi’s_ Nobody. To think there might be more is dazzling. Confusing. Maybe even a little scary. But with more choices...

“How do you deal with so many?” Naminé whispers. 

“It’s okay to be scared.” A hand on Naminé’s shoulder once more. Warm to touch, so much warmer than Naminé herself. Ruse puts her head closer to Naminé’s, nearly whispering in her ear. “There’s a lot...I don't know what's going to happen. But we’re here, still alive, so it’ll be okay.”

A future...that she doesn’t have to be scared of. Is that possible?

Larxene is gone. Marluxia is gone. All of the Organization members that are here...she hasn’t seen any. Maybe they’re gone too?

Maybe...

Maybe they’re safe. Maybe Sora has saved them. 

“I missed you. I’m happy you’re okay.”

At those simple words, Naminé feels something in her chest warm. Heat up to almost fire hot inside of her. Alongside the warmth that comes from Ruse’s connection. The cold pain finally dies down, in the face of that warmth. 

“I’m...happy you’re safe too.”

Is she lying? Naminé doesn’t know, Nobodies aren’t supposed to have hearts, after all. But what is this warmth, if not...happy?

A bitter sort of happiness, one that lingers with a worry it will be stolen away. 

Will this last? Can it?

“...Do you still have that book? Can you tell me about magic?” 

Ruse scoots over, leaning her head on Naminé’s shoulder. So very _warm_. 

“Yes. I can do that.”

Anything to stop the shaking, the shivering, that Ruse is still going through against her. 

Terra’s book comes at once, flopping open in Naminé’s spread hands. To her favorite section, covered in all sorts of words and scribbled notes. She hopes Ruse will enjoy it too.

Clearing her throat, Naminé begins to read out loud. 

“With Gravity, one needs to...”

* * *

There’s no weird blood on Sora (this time) but that’s no comfort. Not when there’s someone else...dead because of him. 

Marluxia was hurting Ruse, had hurt Naminé, and was going to hurt more people. Including Sora. Still...Sora wishes he didn’t have to fight him. Slash at Marluxia again and again, until he finally doesn’t get back up again. Collapses in a flurry of shadows and petals. Gone. _Really_ gone. 

Donald and Goofy reappear once again. Goofy pats his shoulder and Donald sighs, drooping in place. 

“I’m sorry, Sora.”

“No, it’s fine!” He smiles. Tries smiling. Have to keep smiling. “We needed to defeat him anyway, to get out of this castle.”

Defeat is a much nicer word than _kill_ , at least. 

All Sora wants to do is go home. With his friends. 

When he stumbles out of the room, the room where Marluxia died, Naminé and Ruse are still there on the other side. Still waiting. 

Naminé and Ruse huddle next to each over some book, up against the wall. Ruse doesn’t look like she’s afraid anymore, which is good. Naminé...looks _happy._ She’s smiling as she points at the pages of the book in her lap.

Something in Sora’s heart twists at the sight. 

He’s never seen _that_ before. Naminé always looks...sad, somehow. Even in his memories of better times with her. This bright smile is new. 

Really bright. Has she always glowed?

A flash of red hair. Sora blinks. What?

Ruse looks up from the book. Blinks at them. “Huh.”

She nudges Naminé with her shoulder. “Hey. Look who’s here.”

Naminé looks up from her book. It vanishes from her hands. She swallows and slowly rises to her feet. Bows, in his direction. 

“I’m sorry. I...I lied to you.”

What?

“What do you mean by that?”

Naminé looks away. Unable to meet Sora’s eyes. “I took your memories and changed them. I’m not your friend. You’ve never met me before now. I’m...nobody.”

“What? That can’t be true, I remember-” He pauses. Remember? Does he?

“You do, but that’s what not really happened.” Naminé’s hand goes up to rest on her face. To hide her eyes, part of her cheek. “I changed it, so you thought it did. But...I’m sorry! It’s my fault.”

She falls to her knees.

Sora offers her his hand. “It can’t be that ba-”

“Do you know who Kairi is?”

Sora pauses. Kairi. Kairi, Riku said that name, said it was important. A flash of red and the shells of his lucky charm. 

Not shells. Yellow paper. What’s wrong with him? His head spins. 

“Kairi...is that the girl whose name I can’t remember?”

“Yep,” Ruse answers. 

Sora considers it. How sad Riku seemed when he didn’t know who that was. “Can I get her back?”

“Memories are linked. Connected, like they’re in a chain, that makes us up.” Naminé lifts up her right hand slightly. “I can fix your memories...but I’ll be taking the chain apart. You’ll lose what happened here. Or...”

Lowers her right, raises her left. “Keep your memories here and lose your old ones.”

“That’s my choice? I have to choose?”

“Yes.” She turns her back on him. Facing Ruse instead. “What do you want?”

It would be harder to choose, Sora thinks, if not for the flashing star at his waist, his constant dizziness, the nightmares. How confused he is all of the time. 

“Make me like I was.”

A swallow. Ruse nods. For Naminé, since Sora can’t see her face. 

“Okay. Nobody wants to keep fake memories, right?” Naminé turns her head slightly towards him. “You want to know who really matters to you.”

“Don’t say that, Naminé! You matter too!” Sora almost shouts. It’s awful, her putting herself down like that! 

“Yeah, he’s right! You’re a person too.” Donald stamps his foot.

“Very kind to be doing this for us,” Goofy agrees. 

“But...I hurt you!” Naminé bursts out. 

“But you’re fixing it,” Ruse says quietly, before anyone else can say anything. “That’s what matters. That you’re letting him make this choice. You’re a good person for that.”

“Oh,” Naminé breathes. “Really?”

Ruse nods solemnly. “Really.”

They stare into each other’s eyes, while Sora stamps his feet around a little. The staring goes on for a long time, until he can’t take it anymore. 

“So where are we going to fix my memory?” Sora yells, waving his hands. Everything is so bright and white. What are they going to do?

Naminé nods once. “Follow me.”

They go to a new room. One without a card. There’s a strange open flower in the center of this room. 

A just as strange woman in white stands in front of it. With green horns and a green nets flapping about at her face as she turns just enough to look in his direction. 

Sora blinks and the woman is gone.

“Did you see that?”

Donald huffs. “See what?”

Goofy shakes his head. “Didn’t see anything.”

“...Okay.” More stuff no one else can see...it’ll be good to get that fixed. 

“Go in there.” Ruse nods to the flower. “That’s where the fixing will start, once you sleep.”

Sora peers curiously at the flower. “In that? Really?”

Naminé nods. “Really.”

She makes to step back but Sora rushes over to catch her hands before she can. 

“When I come out...we can start over. We can be real friends!”

Naminé’s eyes widen. “What?”

Ruse steps forward with a smile on that scarred face. “Can I be a friend then too?”

“Yeah, of course!” Sora pauses. Scratches at the back of his head. “Be weird not knowing you after all that...”

(Fire. The smell of burnt meat.)

(Maybe it’s a good thing he’s losing _those_ memories.)

“Yeah. I’ll survive.” Ruse waves a dismissive hand. Throws her free arm around Naminé’s shoulders, giving Naminé a slight squeeze. “We both will.”

“Thank you,” Naminé whispers. 

Sora offers his pinky. “Friends, then?”

Naminé bites her lip but reaches out with her own pinky. “Friends.”

A shake. Then she releases and steps back. 

“I’ll write ‘Thank Naminé’ right here in my journal. So we’ll have that!” Jiminy says cheerfully, tapping at his Journal. Sora nods, about to step into the metal flower. 

“Sora!”

Sora turns around right away. “Riku!” He rushes at him, throwing his arms around him. 

Riku is too surprised to do much more than stiffen in the sudden hug. 

“What’s happening?”

“I’m going to get my memories fixed, so I’ll remember everything! Like Kairi!”

“That’s great!” Riku smiles. _Smiles._

Even though Sora knows he won’t remember it, he stares at that smile. Trying to imprint in his memory, Riku being happy. 

“When I come out...we’ll go to Destiny Islands and see Kairi again. It’ll be great!”

“Not if you don’t get in the pod, Sora!” Donald shouts, stepping into his own. “See you, Your Majesty!”

“See you soon, Donald, Goofy!” The King waves. 

Goofy nods. “Of course, Your Majesty! Won’t take long at all.”

Soon enough, the pods close up around them. It’s only Sora. And Jiminy.

“You ready, Sora?” the cricket asks. 

He has to be. 

“Yeah. See you all soon!”

Waves to Riku, to Naminé, to His Majesty...everyone! Even the weird DiZ guy, standing at the edge of the room, just watching. 

Only Ruse waves a hand back. A last smile directed right at him, before the weird metal thing closes up entirely. 

“See you on the other side.”

* * *

Guild Leader Lauriam is gone. 

As is Dandelion Elrena. So much, gone forever. 

A being who exists without aging, protected by secrecy, tends to lose many mortals as the decades and centuries pass. Yet this seems more personal somehow. Closer to the heart, the core, of who the Guide of Departure is. 

What they used to be. 

So much has changed that...the Guide’s hand runs itself against the Keyhole on their chest. A reminder. That they must not cross their boundaries. Break their bounds. There is a price to pay for going too far. For overreaching. 

Focus. 

Run through the files. What is left, after the virus came through? What can be repaired?

The mainframe is fragile, much like the boy who just went to sleep in its embrace. The Guide runs their checks, once, twice. Multiple times.

Each one comes with the same response. The Oblivion Program is complete, its training finished, but for one piece of it missing. 

One card is missing. 

Two went out, as rewards for defeating a difficult memory. Naminé came back with one Key of Departure. Used it. Where is the second?

“Program, where did the second Key of Departure go?”

The Card Program’s head cocks to the side. Returned to its more...friendly form of a dog. At least compared to a Hareraiser. Shakes its head, ears flopping about. 

Unknown. Scans reveal the card is nowhere inside of Castle Oblivion. Does it matter? The card cannot be used outside of the Oblivion Program. Its codes and programs are useless. 

If the card will return, well...the Guide will take care of it before anything serious happens. There will be no risk from this. 

The Guide turns to the Apprentice Ventus, to the boy in the chair. 

Yes. 

Apprentice Ventus is safe and asleep. The Organization Users are gone, no longer around to spread their Darkness filth. There are young Keyblade Apprentices to teach, a future generation when the Guide had resigned themselves to fading away in obscurity. 

Apprentice Riku carries Darkness in his heart. Though...Guide taps their index fingers together. He fights that Darkness instead of giving into it, unlike...unlike...

(“Xehanort!”)

Failure. The Guide shudders, forcibly turning the entirety of their attentions from those collections of memory. To what lies at hand. 

Apprentice Sora...he is damaged, though. Memories twisted and faded. Sleeping because of that damage. Linked directly to the Guide’s framing. 

Perhaps...Naminé has done well, but surely she will not object if the Guide offers their assistance. She did not when the Replica Ruse needed rescue. 

Yes, the Guide will guide as they are meant to do. Show the Nobody how to weave memories properly, swiftly. 

All will be well. 

* * *

This isn’t over, not by a long shot. 

As I watch the pod close up around Sora, around his friends, my heart burns. There are dangers up ahead. Dangers that I don’t know if I can do anything about. 

Scratch at my itchy as ever Dark Suit. Think. 

Terrifying. But I have to take this a step at a time, or I’ll panic. Panic and screw everything up real good. 

Breath. 

Take a moment. Or two. Maybe more. I’ve already made it past my deadline, I don’t know what I’ve changed in surviving. Wait. _Dead_ -line. Heh, that’s a good one. 

“Ruse, are you okay?” Naminé, again. Why does she keep asking that?

“I’m _fine_.” The word fine comes out a little harsher than I meant it, a snap cutting through the air. 

Riku’s staring at me now. So’s Mickey. DiZ isn’t, but that’s probably because he’s busy poking about Sora’s pod thingy. 

“You should be resting,” Mickey says. Disapprovingly. There’s something oddly... heart-rending, about the Disney Mascot being disappointed by my life choices. Agh. I feel kinda bad now. 

“I was looking for Naminé,” is my weak defense. 

Next to me, Naminé flinches. Why-? Oh. 

I turn to her. “No, it’s not your fault. Marluxia would have...it’s just something that happened. Naminé, it’s not your fault he caught me.”

“No, it isn’t,” Mickey agrees. “It’s no one’s fault but Marluxia’s.”

Thanks for the support, Mouse King. And I’m not going to say that out loud, for reasons. 

“See?” I tilt my head in his direction. “He agrees with me.”

“But if you hadn’t gone looking-!” Naminé tries.

“Exactly. If I hadn’t gone looking. So it’s my fault, then. Right?” I try grinning. 

“No, that’s not true,” is Naminé’s immediate answer to that. 

“Then it’s not your fault,” I say confidently. Too confident for the swirling anxiety I have inside. Eating me alive. I am _alive. Alive_ with no idea what to do next. 

Except to get Naminé to stop blaming herself for everything.

Hm. Little steps, that’s good. What next then, as part of that? For now...

For now, I’ll stick to...having a _real_ meal. Maybe a nap, since my body’s starting to ache down to the bone. 

Yeah.

That sounds good. 

I call over to the man still studying the pod. 

“Hey, DiZ, do you have any real food?”

* * *

The brat of a replica sulks in the corner, apparently disappointed that he doesn’t have any “real food.” Saying that snack bars and dried fruit don’t count. Apparently. 

(“Ansem, the boy cannot live off of just ice-cream!”)

DiZ didn’t plan for the replica. He planned for Sora and Naminé, set up aspects of his revenge with Riku and the King in mind. 

The replica is...extra. Unexpected. Interferes by bringing up memories he’d rather forget. Would be better off forgetting. 

For someone who has never been to DiZ’s homeworld, who has never even heard of it, _Ruse_ lives and breathes aspects of his former apprentices. 

Before they died. Before monsters took their place. 

Discomforting. Those memories should be dead. Gone with the people he had made them with. 

“You could sleep too, Riku, while I’m fixing Sora’s memories,” Naminé offers, cutting through DiZ’s thoughts. Her hands twist around each other. 

“Why?” Riku asks curiosity. Crosses his arms and looks the Nobody over. 

“So I could put the Darkness away. You have a lot of it now, and I know you don’t like it very much. I could fix that.”

Riku considers it for the barest second before shaking his head. “Nah. Someone needs to watch over this sleepy head.” He jerks a thumb at the pod Sora sleeps in. “I’ll stay awake.”

Excellent. Perfect for his plan and what he had predicted to boot. 

“If so...will you assist me, in a threat against your friend?”

“The Organization’s still out there,” the replica says, rising up from her seating position to walk up next to Naminé. Behind Riku and the King. 

DiZ eyes the replica suspiciously. Why is she being helpful? He understands why Naminé is, but the replica...is a mystery. At the moment it appears that her strong devotion to Naminé is what drives her. But very little is what it seems on the surface, especially when dealing with the cunning of the monsters his apprentices have become. Or had become, for some of them now. 

The King, the boy, the Nobody...all of those DiZ can measure. Can balance. They all want Sora back, as he does himself. The replica...keeps changing. Keeps grabbing for attention. 

DiZ survives because of predictable factors and how he keeps to beneath enemy notice. One noisy surprise could ruin _everything_. 

DiZ takes a breath. At least with those scars, the replica no longer looks like the original. 

No, that’s more like _other_ memories now. 

(“Braig, who exactly did you cross for _that_?”

“None of your beeswax.”)

Enough of that. Now for what he planned from the beginning, ever since he gained access to some of Organization XIII’s resources. Pulling them out from that extra space the Darkness offers him. 

He offers the boy and the King his stolen coats. Coats to protect them from the Dark, to allow them to track the Organization wherever they may try to hide. 

“Hey, do I get one?” An interruption from the replica, of course. 

“I have only the two.”

“Alright.” The replica shrugs, seemingly unbothered by this. “You two take them.”

“What about you?” Riku asks. 

The replica stretches out her right arm, popping it, before repeating the process with the other arm. DiZ grits his teeth. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve got this stupid thing.” 

Pinches at the shoulder of her ‘Dark Suit.’

“Will that be enough?” Mickey asks in clear worry. 

“The replica is less vulnerable than yourselves,” DiZ says shortly. “To the Dark.”

Vexen made his creations rooted in Darkness, after all. Like everything else. If the replica breaks down...DiZ will take care of it. 

There should be something in those angry notes on how to do so. 

And if the replica becomes a threat...there will be a way to take take of that as well. 

DiZ looks the boy over. Naminé is not incorrect, in saying that his Darkness is very strong. Even after facing his inner demons, there is a high possibility that those powers will grow out of control. 

What will Riku do, in the meantime? Will he use the Darkness much like DiZ himself did, to escape hell? Or will he attempt to lock it inside of him once more?

“What path will you take? The road to light...and the road to darkness.”

“Neither.” Teal eyes meet his orange ones head on. Missing the uncertainty that has plagued this boy through Castle Oblivion. “The middle one’s for me.”

A middle path? DiZ narrows his eyes. What middle path? His apprentices claimed long ago to have taken the middle path, only the entire world to fall to never ending night because of their actions. 

“Do you mean twilight’s path to nightfall?”

Riku shakes his head. Behind him, the replica is _smiling_. Fairly bright for a somber topic such as this. 

“No. I think...I’ll take the path to Dawn.”

...Why did she just do a _fist pump?_

* * *

Saïx is working on yet more paperwork when the howling of an open Dark Corridor interrupts his thoughts and pen. 

Yellow eyes flick up to the intruder. Red hair, green eyes, the smell of smoke. It’s Axel. Of course. 

“You survived.” 

“Geeze, no need to act so happy about it.”

“We’re Nobodies. We can’t _be_ happy.” Saïx rises from his seat, papers in his hands. “Did you dispose of the traitors?”

“Of course I did.” Axel spreads out his arms. “Not even a ‘good job’ for the effort?”

Hm. What an awfully quick response. No details, no report. 

“Number Eight,” Saïx starts, “were there any...complications to be concerned about?”

“...Sora’s out of reach now. He’s...” Axel scratches at his hair, looking away. Hesitant. “He’s asleep. Won’t be a problem like that.”

Saïx closes his eyes. Good. “Anything else?”

Silence. Saïx opens his eyes to glare at Axel. “Anything _else_?”

Axel’s hand drifts down, to dig into his coat pocket. Pulling out something blue. 

“Got a card.” Axel holds a blue card up between two fingers, before flicking it across the room to Saïx. “Here.”

Saïx doesn’t even do him the courtesy of grabbing it from the air. Instead he lets the card flutter onto his collection of work papers. 

“What is it?”

Axel shrugs. A loose motion, one with a calculated “ease” to it. “Called the Key of Departure. Not sure what it does, didn’t do anything when I had it in CO.”

Saïx looks down. Examines the golden key shape on it thoroughly.

“Perhaps, one day, it will be of use. Especially if the Keybearer is still in CO as you said, Lea.”

A flash of green eyes, the smell of smoke growing stronger in the air. 

“Maybe it will. Isa.”

* * *

_Several months in the future..._

  
  


Shards of broken, shimmering purple crystal. Scattered about the ground of the cave.

A thousand different reflections of the people standing in it. Me and him. Melting ice. 

Crunching underfoot as I step towards him. 

Blue eyes, teal eyes. Does it matter?

“Me or her, huh? Well, that’s not really a choice at all, isn’t it? Only one of us was supposed to exist in the first place.”

I smile. Cold and cruel. 

“Isn’t that _right?_ ”

  
  


_Almost a year in the future..._

  
  


A dark city, made of glass and steel. A tall building, at its center, with screens on its top and yellow door with a blue flashing star pattern right above it at the base. The buildings that make it up are all completely empty. Shadows, almost. 

Dark like sleep. Dark like a dream. 

A world that never should have been. 

It’s raining. Raining and raining over streets empty of anything but old ghosts. Creatures that have no right existing, things that should be long dead yet survive off of pure willpower. And shadows. Seething shadows with gold eyes, hungrily gazing up at the just as gold heart-shaped moon up above. 

No one lives here. No one _should_ live here. 

Water falls from its sky on two figures on the edge of the tallest skyscraper. They’re both hooded, both hiding their faces. One sits, legs dangling over the roof edge. Kicking their feet back and forth almost thoughtlessly. Their hood comes up from a dark hoodie, one marked with the words _i eat monsters_ in hot pink on the front. 

The standing figure wears a long black coat, zipped up and with silver chains hanging down from by the neck. 

They’re both small. Short, though the figure who sits is much shorter than the standing one. 

Young. 

Too young for the heavy burdens weighing on their shoulders. 

“Is it really a choice if your future self already chose for you?” The seated figure asks the standing one. Kicks their booted feet out, over the roof’s lip.

Head tilting up towards the golden heart far above. 

“Is that not fate? What do you think destiny is?” is the other’s answer. Questions, more than answers. Folds their arms over their chest. Waiting. 

A hum, as the sitting figure considers their next words. 

“I think...”

  
  


_A past..._

  
  


“No, the world already has you.”

A shake of a silver head. 

“There’s someone else who needs the replica more. You know who I mean.”

A gleam of golden light, one last smile. 

Gone. 

  
  


“I have to believe our choices matter. I _have to_.”

  
  


**End of Oblivion Rising Arc**

**Start of Days Under Fire Arc**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya, an announcement! Tell Me That I'm Real is going on a brief break, for a few reasons. First, need to not burn out. Second, need to write my other stories like Moon Out Of Phase. Third, I need to plot out the next arc since a lot will be changing from canon.  
> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> Are there any character interactions you're interested seeing the future? Any characters? Xion and Roxas are already locked down, so no need to worry about them!  
> I appreciate all of your comments, thanks a lot, readers! :D


	15. Unnatural

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a costume change, a medical examination, and the beginning of a new plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for: Body dysphoria and medical procedures.

_“From shadows, we’ll reclaim our destiny.” -Jeff Williams, From Shadows_

I’ve never been very good at acting. I may have mentioned this before. 

Pretty decent at being _me_ , but other people? Not really. 

But there are different parts that I show to different people. 

I don’t tell everyone what I know about this world I’m in, for example. Showcase pieces, sure. But the whole thing?

Does anyone know the entirety of what I carry? Do _I_ know? 

I have a lot of masks now. Different places call for different parts of me.

Feels like I’m changing, under it all. Under that weight of myself, of my actions. 

How many masks can a person wear, before they become someone else entirely?

Am I free to be... _me?_

* * *

The real Twilight Town is so much more...vibrant than anything Naminé could have ever come with in her drawings. 

So many people...alive. The entire town is full to the brim with life. People everywhere, just walking down the street, talking with one another. 

Noisy. Frightening. 

The buildings are gold-colored, dark brown-colored, and many other shades that the rooms in Castle Oblivion didn’t manage to match. Tall, towering far above her. With that clock tower above them all, in a swirling sky of purple, yellow, and orange. The streets...made of large smooth stones. Easy to walk on, if you’re careful where to step, with cracks to trip. Very different from the smooth floors of Castle Oblivion, where there is not even a scratch to be seen. 

She stays in Ruse’s shadow, dimming her natural light. Can’t stand out, not as a Nobody. Not among people with hearts, whole and happy. 

Ruse hums, seeming perfectly at ease. Only the thrum of their shared connection alerts Namine that the reality might be fairly different. 

A touch of worry, but nothing compared to the strong fear Ruse experienced all the time in Castle Oblivion. When the Organization members were still around. 

“Where are we going?” Namine asks her companion. 

Ruse hums once again. “Was going to get some new clothes for us. Kinda need some, bled all over mine...”

“Clothes?” Namine repeats. “You can get new ones?” She didn’t know that...

“Yeah.” Sadness, pulling and tugging. But why?

Ruse pauses in front of a building. “This should work, I think.”

The doors are open and when Namine peeks inside...there are racks and _racks_ of clothing. Clothing of every kind, a lot she’s never seen before, even in Sora’s memory. 

Not that Sora really paid attention to clothes in the first place...

So many colors, so many patterns!

Namine cranes her neck. A lot to see, and no time to see them all. She’ll have to take in what she can. 

“What do you want to wear?”

Namine whips her head around. “Me? I thought you were picking something.”

Ruse cocks her head, tapping her right hand against her leg. “Yeah, but you can get something too. Something new to wear.”

“...But what would I wear?” There’s just so many choices...how can she pick even one?

“Um. You draw, so...” Ruse taps her chin. “You know when two colors look nice together, on the page? You do that, but with your eyes and the color of your shirt.” 

Her lips purse. “That's the easiest way, I think...”

What two colors look best together? Namine can do that. But...

“I...I don’t know what I look like.” Namine looks down at her feet, at her exposed toes in her sandals. 

More sadness, a gradual pull. 

“There should be a mirror in the changing room.” Ruse walks to a set of doors, pulling one open. “Oop, there it is!”

Namine follows, peeking around her shoulder to see...the mirror. Ruse’s turned her head so she’s not looking into it for some reason.

Namine looks...she has blue eyes, she notices first. Not as blue as Ruse’s, lighter. Her hair, she’s seen before, but not the length of it. Long and pale, brushing at her shoulders. The rest is harder to see. Her light dims, as she bends to more closely look at herself. Which helps her reflection in turn become clearer. 

She looks like...a person. 

A normal girl. 

Other than the glow. 

“Oh...”

“See?”

Her simple white dress...is the simplest color to go with. But should she have another? Change?

“If you want to stay in white...how ‘bout you try a skirt like this?”

Ruse holds up a skirt that’s ruffled in a strange way. White, just as white as her dress. Like the rest of the clothes here, it’s attached to a strange holder. 

“What is it on?” Namine points to the object in question. 

Ruse glances from the clothes holder to Namine and back again. “That? That’s a hanger. For clothes.”

“Oh, I see.” She can barely shove down her embarrassment. Everyone knows things like that! Except...she doesn’t. 

“White and...what’s your favorite color?”

Namine thinks carefully. Of Sora’s eyes, of Ruse’s eyes... “Blue.”

“Blue, huh? That works for your eyes too. Let’s see...”

Ruse hands the hanger with a skirt on it to Namine, turning to flip through a nearby rack with plenty of shirts on it. “Lots of blue...lighter or darker?”

If her eyes are light... “Lighter.”

“Okay. Will this work?” Ruse holds up a loose shirt, in a pastel blue. Bird’s egg blue, like the birds of the mainland that Sora watched once. 

Namine has to be honest. 

“I don’t know.”

Ruse blinks. Shrugs. “Okay. You can change and see, if you want.”

“Change?”

“Take your dress off in the room with the mirror-” Ruse gestures to the mirror that Namine had been examining herself in, “-and put these on. See how they look in the mirror. If you don’t like them, we’ll try something else.”

Ruse tilts her head, putting a hand on her waist. “That sound okay?”

“I’ll try it.”

Carefully, Namine takes both skirt and shirt. Closes the door behind her. 

Dressing herself in the new clothes comes easily, though she’s never done it before. 

And in the mirror. 

It looks...it looks...

Different. 

Like she’s a _person_. 

She opens the door. Steps out. Everything seems...different, somehow. 

“So you like it?”

Namine opens her mouth but there are no words to describe the itch that builds in her. The burning, rising warmth of _something_. Brought on by her new appearance and the thought of Ruse wanting her to experience it. 

“Good, hm?” Ruse seems satisfied by her speechlessness. “Unless you want something els-”

“No!” Namine blurts out. “This is perfect!”

“Excellent.” A grin. 

“Let’s look for something for you then, Ruse.”

At that, Ruse turns, looking to move away from the current racks. Her grin drops away, replaced with something more...worried. 

“What about these?” Namine gestures at the surrounding clothes. 

“Those are for girls.” Ruse shrugs. Doing a very bad job at attempting to be casual with the motion. 

“You’re a girl,” Namine points out. 

Ruse stares. A breath. “...Yeah. You’re right.”

“I’ll help.” 

It’s easier to pick some options for Ruse than it is for herself. For one thing, Ruse deserves the best she can get. 

Since Ruse’ Dark Suit covers her arms...she’d probably like a shirt that covers her arms too. Long sleeves, then. WIth soft material, since Ruse always is scratching at her arms. Like they’re uncomfortable. 

And her eyes, Ruse said ‘pick something goes with your eyes.’ Her indigo eyes. Blue would be easiest, but the purple looks...nicer. Just on whim she picks a red shirt too, as an opposite. WIll make the blue pop out. 

Are there other shirts to t-

“Three will be fine,” Ruse says quickly. She reaches out to snatch the hangers with the shirts on them. Goes to the changing room and shuts the door behind her. 

Namine bites her lip. Her chest hurts. Tightens. 

Is something...wrong?

* * *

I want to puke. 

First time seeing a clear reflection of myself, of _Ruse_ , and I have to fight back being sick all over the place. Fantastic. 

I’m small. Small enough to be able to see all of the body in the mirror without having to move my head. The mirror is meant for a full-grown adult, after all. I’m...too short. Compared to what I’m used to. 

The shape of the face that looks back at me from that mirror is all wrong. 

Silver hair, dark _dark_ blue eyes...yeah. I knew that. Namine told me about the eyes, the hair keeps sticking out into my field of vision. Hard to miss, even for me. 

The rest of it...I brush at my right cheek. At the _huge_ scars there. Knots of purple-black flesh, rough to touch. Surrounded by livid bruise-like scars, eating up that side of the head. _My_ head. 

Coming up from my throat, my side. 

Breath caught in my throat, I peel off the Dark Suit. Call it back with that surge of familiar hunger, enough to see skin above the waist, revealing...more scars. 

Should have expected that, really. 

My entire right arm is livid. Shrunken, a bit. Fingers stiff, as I wiggle them. 

Dark vicious slashes scattered on my right, streaking across my ribs, my chest. All surrounded with that patchy grey-purple, to varying degrees. My _chest._ I stare into the mirror at it, at the claw-like marks stretched out diagonally from hip towards the left shoulder. My chest is...too flat. It doesn’t...it’s not...not _mine_. Not right.

_That’s a pretty serious injury._

I poke at it. Spread my _good_ hand out on it. 

Wrong. 

Wrong, _wrong._ All of this is _wrong._

My breaths come too fast and the chest moves oddly with them. 

This is _hell._

“Ruse?” 

I swallow. Call back through the door. “I’m okay.” Weak. Wavering. Doesn’t sound like I’m okay _at all._ Ugh. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Just- give me a second.” I can get dressed without looking into a mirror. Yeah, I can do that. 

My hands fumble for the blouse Namine picked out for me. One of...three. All the same kind, just different colors. Kinda interesting that’s what she gravitated towards. 

I’ve...I went mostly t-shirts in my last life. These shirts just...seem more formal to me, almost. Compared to that. 

Dark purple. Light purple, a lavender. Some dark reddish one...burgundy, I think? Smooth to touch, very smooth. Silky, a bit. Won’t be rough against my scars. 

Time to try them on. 

The purples...I love purple, usually. But in that mirror, the purple _really_ brings out the weirdness of my scars, against the rest of my skin. 

Maybe another day, when I’m more confident. Less sickened by this body of mine. Today...I put on the burgandy. The sleeves are long. Too long, really, but I like how they cover my hands. Silky and smooth, not itchy at all. The exact opposite of my Dark Suit. 

I nod. “Yep. This’ll work.”

Step out and do a twirl. Let Namine take a look at me. “Looks good, doesn’t it?” 

“The red contrasts with your eyes. I like it.”

I hate shopping for clothes...since this works, I’ll take it. 

“Gonna get this one, then. And...some pants.”

Pants, pants...want some jeans. Sturdy material. Usually went with guy’s jeans in my past life, but...know what? Doesn’t matter. I’ll get whatever fits, finish this up. 

Don’t need any shoes, my boots from my Dark Suit will be fine. 

I go through seven pairs before I’m satisfied with a pair that doesn’t chafe or attempt to rub my scars open. Or Namine is satisfied with something that looks good on me, at least. “Take the black, it looks better on you.” The most confident I’ve ever seen her, looking me over and picking out clothes that she thinks suits me best. 

Huh.

Maybe she should be a fashion designer. Wouldn’t that be something?

“Alright,” I agree easily enough. 

She tilts her head at me. 

“Why not the purple, for the shirt?”

The innocent question...I don’t really want to answer it. But it’s my duty to answer Namine’s questions, having introduced her to this new world. I did it all the time, at my old job, in my old job. Answer questions, I mean. 

I bring up my hand to poke my scarred cheek. “Makes everything...stand out.” Too much, is what I don’t say.

But by the way Namine’s eyes glow and she nods, I think she gets it despite me not saying that. “The red is good, then. And the scars...”

Namine frowns, thinking. “You have a lot on your head. You do...um, I know that people have hats, to cover their heads. Do you want one?”

Something to put on my head...hm. That doesn’t sound half bad, actually. So people won’t be looking at the weird patchiness of my head. So my head won’t be cold. 

I browse through the hats, all kinds of hats. Nothing seems _quite_ right. My finger taps at my chin as I dig through the racks. 

“How about this?” Namine’s voice interrupts my consideration. 

“Hm?” I glance over. She’s holding up...a bandana. A purple one, covered in silver stars. Looks like a wizard’s hat kind of pattern, really. 

“You could wrap this around your head.”

“Hm...that’s a good idea.” I reach out and Namine easily puts the bandana in my outstretched hand. “Thanks.”

Takes a bit of finagling but I manage it in the end. Wrapping the bandana around my head, I mean. 

There’s a mirror, over by the sunglasses display. When I take a look...

“Huh. That looks pretty nice.”

Tuck in my hair a bit more (the remaining long parts), and my whole head is bright purple with just as bright silver stars. Soft cloth too, not rough, not rubbing all weird in my scarred up patches. Excellent. 

“I’ll take it,” I decide. I look over to Namine, who's still got those picks of hers hanging over her arm. Well, just the blouse and the skirt. Nothing else. I guess she wasn’t sure what else to pick? Whatever, that’s a good start. 

Along with the other necessities we grabbed, such as the underwear. Stuff I eyeballed since I didn’t want to get into that with Namine right off the bat. 

I look over the price tags...a bit expensive, but manageable. 

Thanks to DiZ’s generous donation, we have enough money to buy everything we picked out. And by generous donation, I mean swiping the bag of cash off of his computer set-up while he was distracted. 

Hey, wasn’t like he was going to use it anyway, am I right?

My fingers trace the letters pressed into the material of the bag. S-O-R-A. I think. 

Hm. I guess that explains where the money from the First Kingdom Hearts went before the second game. DiZ got it somehow. 

Oh well. Mine now. Not like Sora needs it, at this point. 

A donation to the cause!

“To the front!”

I march on over to the front desk, with a female cashier sitting at it. Flipping through a magazine of some kind. No one waiting, no line. Just us. 

I guess we hit a particularly slow hour. There haven’t been _nearly_ so many people as I expected to be wandering the streets or store for a decent sized town. So perfect timing, I guess?

“Excuse me,” I cough. 

The cashier looks up. Her eyes grow big in her face and she doubletakes. “What happened to your face?”

The smile on my face becomes a bit fixed, stiff in my cheeks. “Er...”

“We want these clothes.” Namine thankfully steps up, her voice fairly quiet and she shrinks back against me, as the cashier turns to look at her. But she still steps up, when I fail to. 

“Oh!” The cashier waves her hands at me. Her face looks frantic and concerned. “I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have said that, my bad!”

“It’s fine.” It’s not, really, but I guess I should be expecting that kind of response now. With the way my face looks. My fault, for not preparing. “Can we get our clothes now?”

“Of course!” The cashier checks everything out for us, possibly a little quicker than normal speed. 

It’s fine. I don’t really want to talk to her, anyway. 

She doesn’t say anything about me buying obviously female clothes for myself, which I can’t help but be grateful for. I don’t want to fight that battle. 

I go back to the stalls to change, once the cash has been exchanged. The cashier looks like she’s about to say something in response to that, but in the end, says nothing. Good. 

Namine changes too. She looks...great. In that sky blue blouse, and that pleated white skirt. Utterly amazing.

“Utterly amazing.”

Her blush is a night full of fireflies. “Thank you.”

Namine smiles. She looks like she’s about to become a miniature star again, at this rate. 

“You look great too!”

I can’t help but smile back. Her smiles are addictive. “Thanks.”

* * *

The cloth wrapped around Ruse’s head brings out purple in her eyes. Makes them darker and brighter, together at once, somehow. 

Like her smile. 

They’ll need to go back to the clock tower, to meet up with Riku. But to her surprise, Namine realizes...she doesn’t want to go. Not really. 

Leave this world that is painfully bright, but in a good way. Full of life in a way the memories and rooms of Castle Oblivion could never hope to match. 

Her new clothes only emphasize how much everything has changed. They’re...different. Not that her old dress was awful, but Namine hadn’t realized how much weight had been tied up in it until getting a new outfit. She enjoys her skirt ruffling in the breeze, the light fabric of her shirt, the colors of it. 

She doesn’t want this to end, Ruse and herself wandering this twilight. Exploring the world in a way she’s never done before. 

But...Namine thinks back to Sora. Sleeping and unable to enjoy this sort of simple exploration because of what she did to him. She has to fix it. She _has_ to. 

So he can do this too. Maybe...maybe...her hands shake. Maybe the promise Jiminy Cricket wrote down will be enough. 

Maybe she can do this with Sora too. 

Before they go back, though, there’s something she wants to try. A reminder, words written down in a book by people long gone. 

“Could we get...muffins?”

“Muffins, what kind of muffins?” Ruse doesn’t say no. Which is the most important part. 

“Um...” Namine twists her hands in her new skirt. Thinks back to Terra’s writing, of talking about making muffins. A food, she surmised, by the conversation going back and forth between Terra and his other friend on them. 

“Apple nut.”

Apple nut, like the one Terra wrote was his favorite. She wants to _know._

“Huh.” Ruse rubs her fingers against the cloth on her head. “ Haven’t seen any bakeries...maybe if we ask those people over there?”

She jerks her head towards a trio of people who have just passed by them. 

“-I’m telling you, it’s true! Go to the Struggle yard at night, and you’ll run into a big dude with an axe!”

“Where’d you hear that from, Hayner?”

“Excuse us!” Ruse calls out cheerfully. 

The three stop. Two boys, one blond and one dark haired. A girl, with dark hair and green eyes. “Yeah?”

“Do you know where we get some muffins?”

The dark-haired, bigger boy speaks first. “Olette’s mom runs a bakery, so you can get something there!”

“Yeah, we were just heading there ourselves,” the blond boy supports. 

“You can come with us, if you want,” the girl offers. 

“That would be...great. Thank you,” Ruse finally says, after a space of awkward silence. 

“C’mon, last one there gets to buy the ice-cream!” The blond boy starts running ahead, calling over his shoulder. 

“Hayner!” The other two give chase. 

Ruse laughs, a sound full of pure... _joy_. Enough for Namine to brighten at it, her skin glowing a little brighter before she quickly forces it to dim. 

Ruse shakes her head. “Man, didn’t expect that. Guess some things can still surprise me. C’mon, let’s go after them!” She breaks out into a run and Namine does her best to follow. A warmth in her chest, even as her legs burn. 

They have just enough munny to get three muffins. One for herself, one for Ruse, and one for Riku. 

“Since he took us here and all. A nice thank you.”

The three kids wave good-bye at them, already chattering away over blue bars on sticks. ‘Ice cream,’ Ruse calls those bars, when Namine asks. More food, maybe more to try later. 

Muffins, Namine thinks, look like fluffy mushrooms. But they’re not mushrooms at all, for some reason. More like bread, or cake, that was the explanation given. 

She takes a bite. It’s...good. Smiles. 

Thank you, Terra, she thinks. Another thank you, to join the many Namine wants to say out loud at some point. 

Riku’s waiting for them at the top of the hill. Dressed in that Organization coat that never fails to get Namine’s chest to hurt at the sight. 

But the silver hair and teal eyes are more than enough to calm that pain. 

“You’re late,” he notes. Not meanly, but Namine still flinches a little anyway. 

Ruse marches up to him and plops a muffin into his open hand. 

“Here, have a muffin.”

“Uh, thanks?” Riku looks baffled but accepts the food all the same. 

“Apple nut.” When Riku looks over at Namine, she takes a deep breath but keeps talking instead of going silent. “That’s what kind of muffin it is.”

“Okay?” He eyes the muffin. Keeps it in hand as he waves his other hand, opening a Corridor. “We need to go back now.”

“Alright,” Ruse nods. “See you there.” Steps into the Corridor. Riku tilts his head (much like Ruse does, at times), waiting for her. 

Namine takes a moment, to look back. To take in all that she can of golden buildings and purple skies and people, _people everywhere._ Alive. So very alive. 

(She hopes she can come back soon...)

She breathes and steps in after Ruse. 

* * *

“I’m back!” 

“So you are,” DiZ says dryly. He looks up from his work, to see the small figure lingering in his doorway. 

The replica looks...immensely different from Riku now. Like her own person, almost. In ways other than the burn scars. 

The clothing is probably part of that huge shift in appearance. DiZ takes in bright red and headwrap with a single glance, before he turns to gather his supplies. Bright colors most likely meant to distract from the multitude of scars that the replica has collected. 

The replica is here for a reason, after all. A reason they both agreed on, in exchange for the replica taking Namine to Twilight Town. 

A physical examination, as quick as DiZ can make it. With more in the future. 

“Sit down.”

A heavy sigh. “So we’re doing this now?”

DiZ lifts an unseen eyebrow. “Is there a better time?”

“No, you’re right, it’s just...ugh.”

The replica walks over to dramatically sits down on the table. Or attempts to. It’s rather difficult to look dramatic when boosting yourself onto a table that’s higher than one’s legs. 

Kicks her legs back and forth, glaring at him. 

Replicas, according to the files DiZ has dug through, are much more...delicate than Nobodies and Somebodies. Relatively speaking. 

Delicate in that Vexen noted instability in every single replica he created, up to his last set of records. 

A wellness check will do well enough to study the replica’s baseline, and help him determine if anything will go wrong in this case. 

Provide him a way to determine possible weaknesses in a Nobody as well. Since Vexen did, after all, base his research off of a Nobody’s form. 

“Your arm.” 

Dark blue eyes squint at him warily as she slowly lifts her arm toward him. Sleeve already pulled back, exposed. The scarred one, he notes. Must be the dominant, then. 

“The other one,” he says. Can’t draw blood from flesh so obviously scarred and damaged. Not if he doesn’t want to cause any further damage.

“Oh.” That arm lowers, and the other one lifts. Even slower than the first time, if that’s possible. She pushes the sleeve back on that one as well. 

DiZ reaches out to touch, and the first thing he notices is that the arm is shaking. The replica’s entire body is, actually. Her eyes are firmly focused on his hand, watching and taking in every single movement he makes. 

There is a logic to it. There are very few adults that the replica would have run into over her short life that would have not used the opportunity of touch to hurt. To harm. One such individual had nearly burned her alive. 

His gloved hand wraps around that shivering elbow gently. “Don’t look,” DiZ orders, as he inserts the needle with his other hand. Hurts less when you don’t look, usually. A trick of the mind. Draws. 

“Ow!”

The blood that comes out...is not the red he was expecting, but green. Green. How...unnatural. What had Vexen been _doing?_

“Freaky, isn’t it?” When DiZ looks up, there’s a crooked smile on that face with blue eyes watching him. “Not human at all.”

“You _are_ a replica.” He releases the trembling limb, moving away to put the sample away properly. For further analysis. 

“Yeah. That’s true.” The replica kicks her feet back and forth, boots clanging against the metal table legs. “I am certainly that.”

Once the sample is taken care of, DiZ grabs some bandages and...there. Some rubbing alcohol. Wrappings, for where he drew the blood from. Turns around to wrap carefully, about the crook of her elbow. After swiping at the spot with the rubbing alcohol, of course. 

“You have a lot of experience in this. What were you drawing blood for, before?” the replica notes, flexing her left arm. Fingers of her right poking around the wrapped up joint. 

(“Why do you need blood?” Huge curious eyes look up from his side.)

His gloved fingers become fists. 

“You don’t need to know that.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Surprisingly, agreement. She tilts her head. “But I still want to know. So? Was it human experiments or something?”

Human experiments. 

Of _course_ she would go to that conclusion straightaway. What else had she known in her existence? She is one, after all. Or a human-shaped experiment, at least. 

It would be better if she was wrong. 

Even better if he could say he was guiltless of the crimes his apprentices had committed. Perhaps he was, of the later ones. But the first experiments...

“You’re...not incorrect,” he allows.

Blue eyes go wide. “Whoa! Really? You’re admitting it?”

DiZ grits his teeth. “Give me your other arm. I need to check your blood pressure.”

The rest of the examination goes without incident. He gets his numbers, the replica remains quiet. Eying him carefully and shaking the entire time, of course, but no more uncomfortable questions. 

“What’s the verdict? Am I going to die?” A broad wink announces her joking intentions. 

In poor taste, much like Braig’s usual jokes. 

“I’m only establishing a baseline for the moment. After I’ve put in the rest of the information, we’ll figure out more about...” He searches for the right word.

“My existence?” she suggests. “Freaky, unnatural existence?”

“Your body,” he compromises with. 

“Hmm.” Scarred fingers tap away on the table. Then she raises that hand off the table, wiggling those same fingers at him. “Why am I all purple?”

A simple enough question to answer, from his studies and observation. “As I said before, your Darkness filled in the missing gaps of your flesh and served as a substitute. Influencing the color later on.”

A nod. “Huh. Guess that kinda makes sense...”

She sits there in silence. Kicking her feet back and forth. 

Unsurprisingly, that silence does not last very long. 

“So...you have Riku and Mickey-”

“The King.”

“Riku and _Mickey_ helping you. What can I do?”

An earnest face, directed towards him. DiZ turns to his computer screen to escape it. 

“You’ll have to use Dark Corridors yourself if you want to be of assistance.”

“Hm...yeah. Is there somewhere I can practice that, going between worlds, in a way that won’t end up with me dead?”

DiZ taps his fingers on the table next to his keyboard. Somewhere to practice...Darkness is inherently hazardous, but the replica doesn’t have a choice otherwise. Not with how Vexen wove Darkness into her physical make-up. 

“I suggest the world you just went to: Twilight Town. Its standing as a nexus world will make it easier.”

“A nexus world?” The replica slides off the table, carefully walking over to stand next to him. Looking over his shoulder. 

Luckily, DiZ doesn’t have any of his private plans up for her to see.

“What’s that?”

“What do you think it is?” Falling back on old habits of dealing with nosy children at this point, really. The old habits of a man who should have remained dead. 

“A nexus world...hm.” The finger of her scar hand taps at her chin. “That sounds like...a world at the center of many, right? But how does that happen in the first place?”

Going straight for the question that he asked of King Mickey, so many years when they met. Investigated for himself when the Mouse King had no solid answer for him. 

Perhaps an answer of his earned knowledge will prevent this questioner from going down the same path a dead man went. 

“Worlds on the edge of Darkness like Twilight Town or Traverse Town require many connections to keep from sinking in entirely. Serving as a center point for many worlds serves that need.”

“Huh. ...I didn’t know that was a thing. What about Save Points?”

“ _Safe_ Points.” DiZ shakes his head, pushing more memories back as he tsks over the replica’s word choice. 

“Yeah, that.”

The replica waits expectedly. For an answer he isn’t going to give her. Tilts her head back and forth, wiggles her fingers. What little he can see them from her sleeves, now that they’ve slid all the way down on her arms again. 

Showing no signs of leaving anytime soon. 

He’ll have to give her something else, to get her out of here. 

“Once you can use Dark Corridors, and have an idea about why you need to practice them on a nexus world, you’ll be able to understand Safe Points.”

“Oh? Huh...that’s an interesting thought.” The replica taps at her chin again. Waves her other finger at him. “Once I figure it out, with Riku, you _will_ tell me, won’t you? Promise?”

(“Promise?”)

“Very well. Leave. Now.”

A smile, as she nods at him. A wide grin, actually. 

“Thanks for the money, old man!” A wave of a hand over her shoulder, as she strolls out through the doorway. 

Something about that statement...

DiZ pauses.

“What munny?”

* * *

There is little that is more frustrating than being unable to carry out an intended function. 

The Guide needs a way to communicate with Namine. The Modification may be skilled with memories, but skill does not equal experience. 

Experience that the Guide has. 

Yet...

The Guide shakes their head, veils shifting about. 

They are limited, in their attempts to contact Namine. The Guide operates in programs, and when not that, in dreams. Namine does not use programs, to piece Apprentice Sora back together. As a Nobody, she does not Dream. Not properly. 

Other limitations...

The Guide cannot touch memory directly. Can copy memory, yes, in order for the Oblivion Program to use it in cards and rooms. 

Altering memories...that would be against their parameters. Against the code that runs through them, dictating every response and motion. 

No, the Guide cannot fix the boy. Fixing the boy would break them first, before ever being of any assistance. The boy is already so broken, a heart separated from its body so fully...how unusual. 

Namine can fix him, but it is best for her not to do it alone. Not when the Guide has more information to offer. 

How to contact her...

The Guide hums, pacing back and forth before the throne that holds their first priority. 

Prototype Ruse would be a preferable means of contact, having contacted and worked through her before. But if she is unavailable. 

The Guide taps their fingers together, one hand bringing up a file of another user they could possibly work through. 

User Darkness in Zero is a possible starting point for this. Even with the taint of Darkness about him. 

But Ruse first. 

The Guide nods, once, firmly. 

Yes. They’ll wait. 

They have so much time, after all, in the end. More, now the Guide has realigned Castle Oblivion with the normal flow of the worlds with Lauriam’s death. Days that would been weeks beyond the castle walls are now one-to-one timewise. 

Surely there is nothing that now demands a deadline to meet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, heh, that was a shorter break than anticipated...and less homework, whew. *scratches head* Got plot sketched out, but what I've determined mainly, is that this arc will be moving slower than the first. There is a year to cover, after all!
> 
> Timeline notes, since the characters here don't calculate time by Roxas' existence like Days does, I've placed this about...Day 54? Roughly? A week for CoM in Castle Oblivion, an entire month in everyone else time. So that leaves Ruse both a month old and about six days old, funnily enough. Axel has showed up after the Castle Oblivion disaster about...twenty days early, whew. Wonder if that'll change anything? ;)


	16. Untaught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our Hero deals with God (again), Namine really would like to talk Feelings, the fleshing out of Twilight Town and Riku probably doesn't deserve this. 
> 
> (But wait. Kingdom Hearts. Yes he does.)

An apple nut muffin? Can you even put apples and nuts together in a muffin and make it taste good?

Riku frowns at the piece of food in question. Lifts it up to his mouth, just enough to nibble. Has a slight taste. Okay, he guesses. He is kinda hungry, after all. He takes a bigger bite. 

“Aha! I knew you would eat it!”

Riku nearly chokes. 

Ruse, right there in his face. Pointing an accusing finger. 

“Mhut!?” Words are hard, when your mouth is full.

“Do you like it?” At times like these, it’s really easy to forget that Ruse was meant to be a copy of him. The scars, ugly as they may be, make it even easier. 

Riku thinks on the question, swallowing the bite in his mouth. “It’s okay.”

“Hm. Alright.” Ruse nods and steps out of his personal space. Taps finger against her chin. “Hey, um, can you teach me Darkness?”

Teach her Darkness. 

(“All true power lies in Darkness.”)

“Like...” Ruse spreads her arms. “How to Corridor. I’m not very good at it.”

Riku lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. 

Corridors. Sure. He can do that. His heartbeat starts slowing down, from its uncomfortable high. Stops pounding in his chest. 

“You Corridored before,” Riku points out. He remembers that, from chasing Ruse after their first fight, that escape through that dark hole that closed up before he got too close. 

Ruse suddenly looks...shifty. Is that the way he looks when he lies? No wonder Ansem laughed at me. Laughed and laughed. 

“Um...I can’t do across worlds. All around the castle, kinda. But outside? Not really.”

She reaches up to tug at her bandana. Purple, like her scars. With stars. Looks...tacky. “You can, though. So...teach me?”

Just Corridors. He can do that. 

At the moment...he doesn’t want to use the Darkness too much. Not when he’s seen how much can go wrong. 

“I’ll show you tomorrow,” he decides. 

Ruse nods “Okay. At Twilight Town, right?”

“Yeah.” 

“Well...” Ruse rocks back and forth on her feet. Her boots. “Meet up tomorrow, I guess?”

“Okay.” Riku turns away. He can hear boots clomping on the floor as Ruse walks away. Maybe he should have said something else? He doesn’t know. Talking to people is hard enough without the entire “hey, I’m a copy of you” added in the mix. 

Riku can’t wait until the King gets back. 

Maybe then he’ll know what to do. 

Because Riku doesn’t. Not anymore. Maybe he never did.

There are no windows in Castle Oblivion. Even if there were, there would be no stars, not in the strange gray fog that surrounds the world dropping off into utter darkness. 

Riku still has the urge to look up at the sky despite all of those facts he knows. 

Find a star, or two. But still, it wouldn’t be the same. Not without his friends. 

“Sora, Kairi, I wish you were here.”

Things were so much simpler back on the islands. 

* * *

Blue sky, green grass...a normally calming environment. The thoughts whirling around inside of my skull make it otherwise. 

What makes things a  _ little  _ more stressful is this: I know I have a deadline. 

In fact, I don’t  _ know _ if I’ve already passed that deadline. Not like I have a nice neat calendar outlining current events for me. 

The situation is this: Sora’s memories and Xion. How long do I have before Xion takes in Sora’s memories as her own, making her sacrifice a guaranteed necessity? Before Roxas is forced to become one with Sora, to save the worlds?

If it’s too late...what choice would I make?

Xion or Sora? ...I don’t know. I don’t even really know Sora and have never met Xion in person. 

Xion or Sora?

...is that my choice to make?

I lean back, hands planted in the grass behind me. Roll my shoulders. 

“What do I do now?” I ask the universe at large. Not really expecting an answer. The universe doesn’t tend to give out answers to heavy questions just like that. Hum. 

“Your assistance is required.”

Well, I suppose the universe sounds like Aqua. Or God does, at least.

When I look over to my right, Guide’s there. Sitting next to me on the long green grass, skirts carefully arranged about their legs. 

“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?”

Veils shift and move. “Yes.”

I smile. “Thought so.” Pat the grass. “Haven’t really seen this stuff for...huh. Don’t really know how long.” Been all city and weird space castles, recently. 

Nimble fingers reach over and pluck a fluffy dandelion by the stem. The Guide twists the plant back and forth, somehow not flicking the seeds off it in the process. 

“What do you need this time?”

“I need a stronger connection, to communicate with Naminé.” They set down the dandelion already in hand, and pluck another. “One that you have.”

“You’re helping her, hm. With the memories?”

Things are changing in this story, beyond my control. Who knows what’s already shifted, that I don’t even know about? Maybe I’ll never know...

What a scary thought. 

“Should I not?”

“No, it’s only unexpected. That’s all.” I pick up the dandelion the Guide put down, twirling it around in my fingers. The white fluff...I called these something else once.

What was it?

Oh yes. Wishy-puffs. 

“Labeling my actions ‘unexpected’ like you know me...you are an odd one.”

I puff up my cheeks. “Not like that! It’s just...I didn’t know there was anyone that could help Naminé with her memory powers.”

No one in canon ever came close to matching Naminé’s raw ability in that field. Which is kinda amazing, considering how many memory shenanigans have happened over the series. 

My fingers tug at the wishy-puff seeds. Stripping them free of the stem, to float away. Into the rest of dream land. Release the breath in my mouth to blow the seeds away. 

“How will you help?”

The Guide, surprisingly, appears to seriously consider my question. Their answer comes slowly, piece by piece. Carefully thought out. Like the way they’re methodically stripping petals off their yellow dandelion. 

“I cannot directly manipulate memories like Naminé herself. I can, however, note where each memory is so she can sort them properly.”

“How long will it take?” Will it still be a year until Sora wakes up? 

“With the severity of damage, even with my assistance, the process will take months at the very least.”

Months...hm. That sounds about the same as canon, before Xion got everything all mixed up and put a stop to the process. What use is the Guide, then? ...No offense. 

“What about missing stuff? Memories that go-” I make a flicking gesture with my left hand. “-you know, bye-bye!”

“Missing memories...” The Guide tilts their covered face back, looking up at a sun that doesn’t exist. “The most efficient method to fix that would be to unite heart and body once more. For that is where the memories will be, if not in the heart.”

Wait. Did that mean what I thought it meant? Have to clarify, just to be sure. “Do you mean having Rox- Sora’s Nobody become one with Sora?”

Guide inclines their head. “Of course. What else would I mean?”

No. No.  _ I guess my summer vacation’s over.  _ “No.” I shake my head fervently. “There’s gotta be another way.”

Guide’s veils flutter. “Of course there are other methods. None, however, will accomplish the goal of waking Apprentice Sora as quickly and effectively as reintegrating the body will. If memories are indeed missing.”

There’s a note of suspicion in that voice. I ignore it in favor of my own thoughts. 

The  _ body.  _ Not even a thought to spare for Roxas. It’s easy to forget, sometimes, that the Guide has priorities that are very different from mine. 

In philosophical terms, if Guide was presented with the Trolley Problem, they would right away pull the lever to save the five and think nothing of the one person smashed into paste. That’s been my impression so far, at least. From this response to my question. 

To Guide’s mind, that one person would already be dead. So why bother thinking about it? Save the most you can, all that matters is the numbers. Five alive with only one lost is pretty good odds, after all. 

In another life, another time, DiZ would have followed Guide’s exact line of calculations on what would be needed to be done to wake Sora and think nothing of it. 

Sacrifice a Nobody to get a hero that saved the worlds, that seems fair trade, doesn’t it?

Nobodies weren’t people, after all. 

But in this life, it’s me standing here, getting the calculations long before DiZ put the pieces together in “canon” and told Riku to retrieve Roxas.

It’s me that can do something.

Whether that actually  _ changes  _ anything...well, we’ll see. 

“So what are the other possible methods, to wake Sora?” I pluck another wishy-puff. 

“The other methods will take longer,” Guide warns me. Again. 

I shake my head. “Just tell me. Please. I’ll help you with Naminé then.”

The Guide inclines their head. “Very well. I will...find another way. In exchange for access to your connection.”

“Okay...so what do I do to let you do that?” Man, that was way too many dos in that sentence! 

“ _ You _ need to do nothing.” A pale hand reaches out. Stretching towards my face. “I will take care of the procedure.”

“Wait, I’m not su-”

Darkness. And wishy puff fluff, blown right into my eyes. 

Well. 

Isn’t that just swell?

* * *

It’s different, now that the Organization is gone. Naminé knew it would be, of course, but the feeling of it...is completely unexpected. 

She’s still reworking memories, like she did for Marluxia and Larxene. But it’s different. Naminé’s doing it to  _ help _ , now. Not hurt, not trap. The actions are the same, really, when she changes the memories, yet somehow it still manages to feel  _ lighter.  _

  
  


Nobodies don’t need to eat. Not often. Naminé told Ruse that, once Sora was asleep. 

She still insists on getting food for Naminé anyway. Like the muffins. 

They’re sweet. Yummy. Good. 

Naminé rests in her chair, before the pod, sketchbook in her lap. She hates the chair, but it’s better than standing, at least. 

Noise behind her. Naminé breathes and carefully turns her head enough to see what it is. She’s had enough of being afraid. 

“Funky dreams,” Ruse complains, nearly stumbling into a wall as she comes through the open doorway. Her hands are full. Full of more granola bars. Always more granola bars, no matter how Ruse complains she hates them. 

“What about?” Naminé’s never...dreamed. She’s kinda slept before, but dreaming? That’s something beyond her, something only for real people. 

She doesn’t like it. Too dark, having her eyes closed like that. 

Ruse’s lips twist as she thinks back. “Um, dandelions? And grass, I think. Don’t remember much except it was weird, somehow.”

Her pencil pauses on the page. “Dandelions?” She repeats. The word seems familiar somehow, but it brings no corresponding picture in her mind. 

“Little plants with yellow flowers. People don’t like them cuz they grow everywhere and spread seeds everywhere,” Ruse explains. 

As she always does, when it’s clear that Naminé doesn’t know something. If Naminé asks more, Ruse is sure to explain that too. 

It’s...nice, to have simple explanations without the explainer thinking she’s not clever enough, too  _ dumb _ , for not knowing. Larxene sighed loudly every time Naminé asked her something and eventually stopped answering questions at all. Marluxia  _ never  _ answered  _ anything _ . And Axel...he wasn’t very good at explaining anyway. Not like Ruse is. 

Eventually, she learned that she should stop asking questions. So Naminé did. Now, she can ask again. 

It’s...nice. Learning more is nice too. But the warmth that fills her with the direct care Ruse shows her, the level of attention she pays to every question, is the  _ best  _ part. 

“Um, do you know another way I can carry these?” Ruse awkwardly juggles the wrapped up bars back and forth her hands. “Don’t really have the best pockets in girl pants.”

Naminé frowns slightly. Barely, really. 

“Why don’t you just put them in the extra-space?”

Ruse pauses. Looks down at the granola bars in her hands. Looks back up at Naminé. 

“Like where your weapons go?” Naminé tries.

“...well, now I feel stupid.” As quick as thought, the granola bars disappear. 

Naminé glances away. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t mean to-!

A movement, in the corner of her eye. She looks back to see Ruse shrugging, shaking her head. “Nah, it’s fine. Something I should have thought of earlier, really. Thanks for bringing it up.”

Ruse seems different somehow. Still smiling and bright. Yet the connection between them...there is something  _ lacking _ . Missing. Ever since she got those scars. 

“Ruse...” Naminé rustles through her pages. Trying to search for the right words. 

Ruse raises an eyebrow, the movement barely visible under her headwrap. “Yes?”

“Do you want to talk?” Naminé blurts out, clasping her hands together in her lap. 

The future that Ruse somehow knows, what happened to Ruse to give her those scars, what’s happened to both of them...Sora always seemed happier, after talking to Donald and Goofy, on his journey. Talking might help, then. 

Naminé wants to know.  _ Need  _ to know, if she is to do anything about it. 

“Uh...see you later.” Ruse flicks two fingers at her. “Gotta catch up with Riku. He might leave me behind, you know.”

She doesn’t want to talk, then. Naminé pushes back the echo of disappointment and nods back. “See you later,” she repeats. 

Ruse grins and tromps off. Stomp. Stomp. How is it that her boots are even louder outside of the Dark Suit, than with it?

Good thing that there isn’t anyone around anymore that might get her in trouble for the extra noise. Anyone that she can think of, at least. 

DiZ might, but Naminé hasn’t really talked with him enough to know for  _ certain.  _ Certain is what makes a difference, in the end. 

Naminé sighs and returns to her work. Sketches out a memory of Sora in Wonderland, surrounded by oversized mushrooms and flowers. 

Uses the art to pull herself into the chains that create Sora’s current memories and dreams. When she reaches out, with a nonphysical hand...something reaches back. Reaches  _ through  _ her as Naminé wraps around a memory. 

Not Ruse’s connection, but  _ close.  _

Right next to where Ruse’s feelings usually come in. A warmth. Increasing as she...pulls those two memories together? A  _ they’re supposed to be that way _ sort of feeling. 

Pulling them apart...lessens the feeling. How about another pair? Cold. But warm, when she removes one and places it with another finished set. Hm. A  _ guide.  _

With the new connection guiding her, Naminé finishes the set she’s been working through much quicker than she had been expecting. 

All in order, too. Perfect timing, moving smoothly from one moment to the next, as far as she could tell. 

Half of the trouble with fixing Sora’s memories was organizing them in chronological order. Since Naminé hadn’t been there for his adventures herself, it was sometimes difficult to tell which worlds he had gone to first, or what people he met first. The best way was to go through Donald’s and Goofy’s memories to serve as a reference, but that took a lot of time, pulling out of Sora’s to go to Donald or Goofy (or both, if a bit was particularly confusing) and then back in again. 

Having an unknown someone that could tell her what the order really is without those extra steps added in...helps a lot. Speeds up the process as she rechains everything together. 

If they were all going to be fast, like that...

“Maybe I’ll get to go to the beach with Ruse  _ and  _ Sora.”

She can’t help but smile at the thought.

* * *

Dark Corridors are just a teeny bit different, between worlds. 

They’re longer, for one long. Dark, dark tunnels that you can’t really see the end of until you stumble out into the light of your destination. Also, tighter somehow?

Feels like I’m traveling through a worm’s guts. Squish, squish, under my boots. Also...smells of vanilla. 

I nearly trip over my own feet, on the other side. Almost knocking over Riku in the process. He’s in his coat. Staring at me. Under the shade of the tall, tall trees. The forest near Twilight Town, the forest without a name. At least one that I know. 

My Dark Suit’s on, of course. I may have not worn it yesterday on the way back, but I spent the rest of the afternoon after the physical examination and chat with Riku paying for my audacity. 

Felt like my guts were going to jump out of me and start eating me alive. Stomach acid and all, oogh. While I was  _ starving _ at the same time. Probably the reason behind my weird dreams. 

Wonder if that changed my results at all...

“So.”

I tilt my head at him in reply. “So. What do I do? Teach me Corridors!” I need to find out what Save Points are...and move around the worlds on my own, I suppose. 

“Um. Follow me?” 

That would be reassuring if it weren’t phrased like a question. As Riku walks across dappled shadow and light tracing across the foliage, I examine our surroundings. Leafed trees, not evergreens. Tall trunks, much taller than either me or Riku. I can’t see the sky, but there’s still sunlight coming through. Thankfully. Pretty dark, though. 

“Are you coming?” 

“Yep!” I make to follow but Riku shakes his head at me.

“Don’t walk,” he calls out. “Use a Corridor,”

Oh yeah! Is he trying to figure out where I’m at, Corridor-wise? Not bad. 

Barely a blink of movement to get to him, Riku’s so close to me. I still stumble anyway. 

“Long distance, how?” I demand immediately, as soon as I’ve sucked air back into my lungs. My stomach grumbles. Call out a granola bar, unwrap and chow down. 

Such a simple way to store things, and I hadn’t figured it out. Stupid. 

“You look like you do it the same way I do,” Riku thinks out loud.

“Yeah,  _ look  _ like,” I grumble, “But if I did it the same, I would be able to travel worlds like you do.”

Believe me, I’ve  _ tried.  _ Once the entire Chain of Memories mess was finished, all of the Organization members gone, I tried right away. Just to see if I could. 

Nothing. Not even a trip across Castle Oblivion. 

Probably lucky that nothing happened. I could have possibly punted myself into the Realm of Darkness, seeing how I have no idea what I’m doing.

“Hmmm.” I tap my foot against the ground. My gloved finger against my chin. “I reach for the Darkness and then I..focus on you. That’s what I did.”

“You focused on  _ me? _ ”

“That’s what I always do! What do you do?”

“I...” Riku’s face scrunches up, as he thinks his process through. “I picture where I want to go to. That’s how DiZ described it.”

Huh. That sounds kinda like what Vexen said, in the middle of his nonsense. If I’m remembering correctly...

_ That wasn’t nonsense! _

“That’s weird. Um. Try that way, then?” I suggest. 

Riku nods at me. “Yeah. Try doing it like that.” He points to a nearby log. “Go there.”

I close my eyes. Focus. Think log log log. 

Open my eyes. “Still here?”

“Still here,” Riku confirms. 

Try again. Close my eyes. The thing is, the more I reach for my Darkness for this, the more it slips away. I think of Riku, of being with Riku, and it instantly rises. A grasping and hungry tide. 

But think of the log, of being next to the log...

I spread out my arms. 

“Nothing.”

Riku frowns. “What’s wrong with you?”

What’s wrong with me?  _ Everything.  _

I narrow my eyes at him. “What’s wrong with  _ you?” _

Riku looks confused before his eyes alight with realization. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

“Sure,” I huff. We sound too much alike, him and I. I hate it. 

The surrounding shadows deepen. My stomach burns and I  _ hate hate  _ it. 

Yellow blank eyes heave themselves out of the shadows, actual Shadows coming out to play. A popping noise as a huge cone-shaped robot thing with little arm-guns appears, with a red-black heart symbol on its front. Emblem Heartless. 

A welcome distraction, at this point. Hopefully we will never come back to this subject. 

“Heartless!” Yeah, kinda pointless to yell that. But tradition, you know?

“Come on!” Without any further ado, Riku throws himself into the fight with Soul Eater. 

I grit my teeth. Yank out my own weapon. That blue and white shield that I  _ hate.  _ Hate what it reminds me of. (Burningburning and bloodbloodblood.)

The worst thing about fighting with Vexen’s shield...well, other than I’m fighting with  _ Vexen’s _ shield, is that my body somehow can instinctively use it. Shield against the lasers from the Heartless robot, sweep forward to brush leaping Shadows aside. Squish Heartless, while Riku stabs them. 

There’s no fumbling, nothing that would be considered a sign of a newbie that has no idea what they’re doing with a weapon. I’m totally a novice, really. 

But my body isn’t. 

Unfamiliar, strange, like everything else attached to it. Really hope that DiZ can tell more about replica bodies because this...this is  _ weird.  _ Super weird, even for my waking up in a video game as a strange clone thing. 

I don’t like not knowing my limits. Makes it far too easy to accidentally step over them and get myself killed somehow. 

_ Like me...you need to be careful.  _

Thank you for your concern, strange voice that I’m not sure is actually a thing.

_ Not a problem.  _

Real Heartless are a lot like memory Castle Oblivion Heartless. 

Except that they squish, leaking shadowy goo everywhere after I hit them. Not hard enough to kill most of the time, but enough to do some damage. The robot doesn’t really squish, clangs instead under the assault, goo dribbling out of the cracks in its protective metal cone. 

The things  _ stink _ too, a nearly overwhelming stench of...hm. Something. More of a feeling than a smell, I guess, digging in my chest. I’ll figure out what it is later. 

The robot makes noise, too. The Shadows remain silent as always, but the robot beeps and zaps away with its lasers. Very noisy, unlike the nearly silent memory Heartless. 

So, I guess they’re not the same at all. Hm. 

When we’re done fighting, when Heartless are done popping up out of thin air, Riku bends over to scoop something off the ground. I watch curiously.

“You kill a Heartless and they leave stuff behind, huh?” I kinda knew that already, honestly. How else would synthesis work in-game? Knowing is still different from watching items physically plop out of the shadowy messes that are rapidly disappearing. Shiny rocks kind of items, at that. 

I squat, to get a better look at what Riku didn’t grab off the ground. Pick up the shiny rocks in question. Smooth to touch, slightly cool. 

Most of them are black crescent shaped ones. Dark Shards, one of the only drops I remember from the games, since they’re one of the most common. One or two, from the robot Heartless, are yellow diamond-cut pieces. Or gemstone-cut, whatever that is. 

Hmm. Thunder, maybe?

Roll them back and forth between my fingers. 

“What do you do with these?” Does Riku do synthesis? Or is that a Keyblade User only thing? I find myself eager to find out. Be super cool to make myself some magic gear, if I can’t do spells for myself. 

“...I’ve never really picked any up.” There’s an awful red blush staining those cheeks. Embarrassed. Bless him. He’s  _ trying _ , at least. More than certain grumps I could name. 

Well, he hasn’t done anything with them...guess I’ll have to figure it out. After I get the answer to my next question, of course. 

“Can you eat anything Heartless drop?” Oh, wouldn’t that be something! Rock candy like the synthesis stuff but not, or some other kind of food, from Heartless...probably be dangerous. ...Where does Sora get the food from in KH3 again?

“...No.” Riku’s face does a funny twitch. Probably considering what Heartless food would taste like and firmly rejecting it. I know I am. 

Hm. Something else I do to mess with him? Didn’t mean to, really, with the food question, but if that’s a thing...

A proper older sibling always rolls with the trolling.  _ Always.  _

“I dare you to lick it.” I hold up the synthesis material, wiggling it so it flashes invitingly in the sunlight. 

Riku narrows his eyes at me. “You do it.” Folds his arms over his chest, probably content that he’s checkmated me. 

Ha, like that’s any barrier. He’ll learn. 

I shrug. “Okay.”

“Wait, what?” Riku’s eyes widen. He moves. 

_ No! _

Too late. 

I lick the yellow rock. The lightning rock. 

Doesn’t really...taste like anything?

Gives me a static shock, actually. A zap moving right through my tongue. Feel what’s left of my hair standing on end, whoa. Definitely a Thunder element of some sort. 

I need somewhere to write this down...because it’s not science until you write it down. And I don’t know when the taste of synthesis materials might come in handy, but it  _ might.  _ Sometime. 

“Why the heck would you do  _ that?”  _

Because I was curious. Mostly because it’s funny to screw with Riku. “Hungry,” is what I say. Pat my stomach with a pleasant smile on my face while Riku  _ stares  _ at me. 

“Just...don’t. Do that.”

He looks so shook that I almost feel bad. Almost. Until he snatches the synthesis stuff out of my hands, shoving it away in his coat pockets. 

“Hey!”

“No,” Riku says firmly. Like he’s scolding a dog. 

I stick out my tongue at him. “You should try it sometime, it’s kinda fun.”

A new expression crosses his face. A sort of “Oh God, I regret  _ everything _ ” sort of expression. Heh. He  _ deserves  _ this. 

_ Yes he does.  _

My hands rest on my hips. “So, munny?” I prompt. “For food?”

“...what do you want to get?” 

“How about more muffins? We got enough for that?”

Riku pulls the little golden cubes, silently counting them. “I don’t know. How much do they cost?”

I eyeball the handful. Not that I  _ really  _ know a lot about munny and its denominations (Naminé had to calculate our payment last time), but... “Hm. That should be enough.” I thrust my arm into the air in a victory pose. “To the bakery!”

“There’s a bakery?”

“Yeah, it’s in town. I think there’s hole in this wall somewhere we can use to get back in...”

* * *

Olette’s family has the  _ best  _ bakery. Everyone agrees on that. 

And because they have the best bakery, everyone comes to it. Including interesting strangers. 

Strangers that Olette can tell Hayner and Pence about later, at the Usual Spot. Strangers they make up stories about, guess at where they came from. Come up with ideas about the mysteries hidden in their shadows or coats or anything that a stranger might possibly carry. 

Too bad both Hayner and Pence are busy right now. But at least that leaves her free time to gather some facts for later. 

Her mother’s busy at the counter right now, wrapping up the Hawthornes’ weekly order. 

Which means it’s Olette that sees the newcomers walking through the door first. 

The girl, from yesterday. That asked where she and her friend could get muffins. The one in red and wearing a very pretty star-covered headwrap. But what’s really interesting about her are the  _ scars  _ on her face. 

_ Burn  _ scars, Olette’s pretty sure. You don’t live in a bakery and not know what those look like. She even has one or two small ones, on her fingers. Though she’s never quite seen burns as serious as those. Or purple. Why purple?

People in Twilight Town didn’t have their cuts healed into purple scars. Maybe that was a unique stranger thing for wherever the girl had come from?

Olette’s never going to ask the girl where she got her scars, of course. That would be rude. But she’ll talk about them with her friends later. Maybe they’ll have some ideas. 

The girl is here with someone else. But not with the girl in white and blue, the girl that Olette’s pretty sure  _ glowed _ . No, this person is wearing...

Olette puts her hand over her mouth, to hide her gasp. A black coat!

The girl’s friends with one of the Black Coats? Oh!

The Black Coat doesn’t have their hood up, like every other Black Coat Olette and her friends have seen. Showing their face. Olette squints at them. A girl...or a boy with really long silver hair. The balck coat doesn’t seem gendered in any way, which makes it harder to tell. They look a lot alike, the girl and the person in the Black Coat. Like siblings. 

“-so we get an Apple Nut for Naminé. Do you want something else?”

“I don’t want anything.” The Black Coat folds their arms over their chest. 

“How ‘bout for later, then?”

“I guess.”

Mom’s done with the Hawthorne order, waving the strange pair up to the counter. “What would you like today?” She asks with a bright smile on her face. 

A smile to live up to. 

And when the smile’s not enough, the metal bat that Mom keeps behind the counter adds just enough oomph. 

The scarred girl steps up to the counter. Counts off on her fingers. “Uh, one Apple Nut Muffin. Hm, I kinda want that Maple Donut, Maple’s the best, and...” Taps her chin. “Whatcha want, Riku?”

“I don’t know,” The Black Coat,  _ Riku _ , says flatly. “That’s what I just said.”

“Aw, but I gave you a whole three seconds to think about it!” 

_ Totally  _ siblings. 

“You should try the lemon scones!” Olette volunteers. Her least favorite, so if he gets them...that’s less of a chance she’ll find some in the extra bins later when she goes snack-digging for her and her friends. That Mom might give her money for ice cream instead. The  _ best _ end option. 

“...do you have any paopu fruit desserts? Anything like that?” Riku’s voice is so quiet, Olette has to strain to hear their words. 

Mom shakes her head, dark curls bouncing and her dark dark green eyes sympathetic. “I’m sorry, honey, but I don’t know what that is.”

Riku shrinks in, a bit, on themselves. But they don’t look surprised either, by Mom not having it. 

Kinda an insult, really. Thanks to their deals with the Hawthornes, they have  _ everything  _ here. What is this poo-poo fruit stuff?

“How about...coconut!” The girl claps her hands together. “That’s island-y, ain’t it?”

“I’m allergic to coconut.”

“Oh really? Man, guess I can’t have that anymore...” The girl breaks off into disjointed mutters. 

Riku’s face squishes up. Kinda cute, actually. Not as cute as his sister screwing up her face at him in an exaggerated version of his expression. Olette puts her chin in her hands, elbows digging into the table top. “Why can’t you have cocon- oh. Right.”

“Yeah, because I’m a cl-” The girl looks around wildly, out of nowhere. And says, really really loudly, “TWIN. Yeah. We’re totally twins, that’s why he and I look the same and stuff!”

“Look, can we go now?” Riku says. He looks so... _ tired _ . 

The girl puts her hands on her hips. “Not til we get something for you.”

“How about you just take a Red Velvet Cupcake,” Mom suggests. Mom always has good taste in treats. (Except for the Lemon Scones.)

The girl nods. “Okay, we’ll do that.”

“Where’s the mon- ah, here.” Munny is exchanged and the two leave as soon as Mom gets their order set out in a bag for them. A bag that the girl snatches up as soon as it touches the counter. 

Gone. They’re gone. 

Olette breathes out.  _ Whoa.  _

“Hey, Mom, I’m going to meet my friends!” She stands up, racing to the door. It rings with its normal bell as she pushes it open. 

“Alright, just be careful to avoid the shadow monsters!” Her mom calls out after her. Olette nods and runs. Runs and runs in the light of forever twilight. 

“Pence and Hayner are going to love hearing about this!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I make Riku allergic to coconut for the joke the reason he turned Dark was because Kairi told Sora to get coconuts for their trip?  
> ...Maybe.  
> But hey, just gets a rash! He's fine! Totally fine!
> 
> The dynamic between Ruse and Riku: they both think of themselves as the older sibling. Essentially.


	17. Underworld

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our Hero makes Dumb choices, Namine makes a threat, and Riku should really not be supervising any of this. Also, the plot moves along, ever so slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crazy times we be living in, huh? I wish all of you well, and hope you're safe, wherever you are. :)

Days have passed and still no change. Riku hasn’t found any Organization members and Ruse doesn’t know how to use a Dark Corridor between worlds. 

The only _good_ thing that’s happened in that time is that Naminé is slowly piecing together Sora’s memories successfully. 

He’s watching her do it now, in fact. Sketch out something unseen with a yellow colored pencil. Draw and draw. 

While Ruse is curled up around Naminé’s feet, on her side. Snoring. Sleeping. 

She sleeps a lot, now that Riku’s thinking about it. Whenever she’s not talking or practicing Dark Corridors with him or eating, she’s sleeping. 

Like Sora. But...it’s different somehow. Riku’s not sure how it’s different, only that it is. 

“How close are you to finishing?” he asks. 

Naminé’s pencil pauses mid-scratch. She tilts her head. “I don’t know. But it’ll be a while yet.” She turns the pencil in her fingers, to tap its end against the page. “Have you...found any Organization members?”

Only the slightest tremble in her voice, a slight increase in the intensity of her light reveals what she thinks about that possibility. 

Riku shakes his head. “Nothing yet.”

“Is that good or bad?” Naminé questions. 

Riku considers her question carefully. “Both, I guess. Good that there’s been no fighting yet, bad because we don’t know what they’re up to.”

Knowing What They’re Up To is very important, DiZ has said multiple times. The King agrees with him too, that must be why he’s always been away this long. Trying to find out more about Organization. About Nobodies. 

Which Riku can’t help with, because of Ruse. 

“Once I get Ruse to figure out Corridors...we can figure out the Organization.”

Naminé’s body shakes, as she rises from her chair. Steps over Ruse, towards me. And puts her notebook away. 

“I don’t want her to get hurt,” Naminé whispers.

Riku...has to agree. If Ruse fights the Organization...she will get hurt. Especially after what’s already been done to her, to Naminé, to Sora. 

Riku can be strong. He can take care of this, with the King’s and DiZ’s help. By himself. 

“I could leave Ruse in Twilight Town,” Riku suggests. 

The replica seems to like the world well enough, not afraid to be loud and friendly. She loves the bakery, the goods that are there. Insists on Riku getting a new one to try each time they go. The people there are nice too, maybe they would welcome her in. The Heartless are few, and nonthreatening. 

Best of all, with how unsuccessful Ruse’s attempts have been at world-traveling, she would stay right there and not get herself hurt. 

What a good idea. Maybe he should do it the next they go, the next time he tries to teach her. (Teach her and _fail_.)

“It would be safer there. Away from all of this.”

“Wait.” Naminé, head tilted slightly. Looking him over. “Is that a...good idea?” She glances at the sleeper on the floor. 

“Better than this, like Kairi back home on Destiny Islands.”

“She’s not Kairi.” Naminé’s quiet statement stops Riku right in his tracks. A bolt to the heart, hearing that name drop from those lips. “She’s not going to stay out of this just because you _abandon_ her somewhere safe.”

A fire in those blue eyes, those eyes like Kairi’s and Sora’s but _not_ , because of that fire in them. Something’s _changed_ in Naminé, at the mention of Kairi. But what?

She lifts her chin. “I want to be a better friend than that. When Ruse has done so much for me.”

“It would be safer,” Riku just manages to choke out, past the sudden lump in his throat. 

_That’s_ not what he did to Kairi-!

(But it is, isn’t it?)

“But not better.” Naminé turns her head to gaze at the pod in the center of the room. The reason for all of this, for everything he’s done so far.

Sora. 

Slowly she turns her eyes to the person curled up on the floor next to her chair, snoring softly. _Her_ reason for everything she’s done so far, Riku is starting to think. 

Ruse. 

“I _know_ her. Leaving her there...she would kill herself trying to get back. She wouldn’t hesitate.” Naminé’s fingers linger on her own wrist, faintly. Lightly. “Didn’t hesitate.”

Deep in her sleep, the subject of their talking snorts and rolls over. Exposing just exactly how far she’ll go, in brilliant scarring on the right side of her face. 

A reminder that will never go away, Riku thinks, for as long as they live. 

Riku’s fingers curl up at his side. _He’s_ lucky, really lucky, that through all of the dangers he ran in his anger and jealousy, under Maleficent, none of them hurt him as badly as _that_. 

In other ways...his hand drifts to his heart. Yes. Physically? No. Lucky. So lucky that Sora held out his hand. Didn’t let go. 

In that light, yeah, Riku can see how stubborn Ruse is. Just as stubborn as himself. 

Naminé looks from Ruse on the floor and to the pod. The look on her face becomes something more determined. 

“Besides if you do that to Ruse, you or DiZ...” She takes a breath. Steadies her stance. “I won’t fix any more memories.”

What?

“You won’t?”

Naminé’s hands become fists, by her side, as she stares him down. “I won’t. I’m sorry, but I won’t. Not if you abandon Ruse.”

“I thought you didn’t want her to get hurt.” Why such a change?

“I...don’t. But she’ll hurt herself more if I push her away.” Naminé’s eyes lower. Ashamed, almost, of her sudden boldness. 

“Okay. I’ll try helping her. I don’t know if it’ll be enough, but I’ll...try.”

Try, try, try. Never enough. 

Riku turns on his heel, to leave. 

“Please stay.”

Surprised, Riku’s eyes squint a bit, as he turns to face her. 

Naminé shuffles her feet. Holds up her sketchbook, newly summoned to her hands. 

“I’ll even tell you about his adventures.”

Riku can’t help the huff of surprise that escapes him at that. “I don’t think- um, you sure you should be telling me _Sora’s_ memories?”

Naminé smiles. A light, faint thing. Just like the light that comes off of her constantly. “I can’t think of anyone Sora would rather share his memories with than you. Riku.”

Riku swallows. Slowly, he follows Naminé’s lead to sit on the floor, while she rests on her chair. Her nimble fingers open up the book, exposing a picture of a palace with a domed roof, with blue skies behind it. 

_Agrabah_ , Riku knows that world. 

He pulls his knees up to his chin. Listening as she starts. “Well, this is where he met a monkey called Abu...”

Yeah. He can stay. Just a little longer. 

* * *

A week. An _entire_ week and I _still_ can’t travel between worlds. Spend pretty much every morning with Riku, in Twilight Town, and _still_ nothing. 

Riku’s teaching...is, well, I’m pretty sure he hasn’t taught anyone in his whole life. He trips over his words and backtracks and doesn’t know how to answer any of my questions. His attempts to clarify just leave me more confused. 

Which is perfectly understandable, of course. 

He’s, what, twelve? Twelve or thirteen. A middle schooler that’s been barely introduced to a new world of magic and Keyblades. Full of many strange things. Riku’s in no position to teach anyone _anything._ Especially as worried as he is about Sora right now. 

I blame DiZ, really. It’s pretty clear that he knows _lots_ of stuff. Apparently told Riku how to do Corridors better in the first place, but he won’t tell me? What’s he scared of? 

I _have_ been considering what a nexus world is, though, when not practicing my own Corridors. My own useless Corridors that only get me from person to person on the same world, leaving me sick afterwards. Argh. 

Nexus...a center, that’s what DiZ told me. A center of worlds, a hub world that connects to a whole bunch. But what makes a world a nexus or hub world and another one not? Is there a technical explanation? Twilight Town is a nexus world, DiZ said...

I hum, eyes flicking up to the perpetual purple-gold skyline. This place, Yen Sid said in Kingdom Hearts II, I think, is on the border of Light and Dark. It is from only Twilight Town the player can get to The World That Never Was. Something important there, I know it! 

Before I can figure out a conclusion from those pieces of information, though, I need to know what some other nexus worlds are-

“Ruse, are you listening to me?”

“Have you said anything you haven’t repeated a thousand times this week?” I ask back, eyes snapping down from the sky to Riku’s annoyed face. 

Teal eyes _glare_ at me. He doesn’t say anything, though. I must be right. 

“I need to find where the Organization is, if we’re going to stop them.”

What he doesn’t say is, I can’t do that while I’m stuck with you. Which, point. 

But I know where the Organization goes, don’t I? Have answers to the questions my allies so desperately seek. 

I even have a list of worlds. Agrabah, Beast’s Castle, Neverland, Wonderland, Olympus Coliseum, Halloween Town...Twilight Town. Twilight Town, every sunset, in fact. More reliable than my other random guesses. Timing is everything, in the end. 

Do I say something? Tell Riku, DiZ, that Organization XIII has a presence here?

I...I look up to the clocktower. Empty, right now. But this evening...there’ll be Axel, Xion, and Roxas. 

No. 

I won’t say anything. They’re not hurting anyone. They’re just...becoming friends. That’s all. No one else needs to know about them and their sunset ice cream socials. 

Besides...my shoulders shiver. My right hand goes up to scratch at my lumpy cheek. 

(A finger snap.)

I don’t want to see _him_ again. Right now. 

Yeah. It’ll be fine. Saying nothing...is best. That secret won’t hurt anyone. I’m sure of it. 

Never did in canon, after all. 

I stretch out my arms. My Dark-enclosed arms. 

It’s okay now, leaving my Dark Suit on. Even with the stiff skirt being annoying as always. More comfortable, less itchy, with my new clothes serving as a buffer between the Dark material and my skin. Those clothes will get ruined, of course, should attacks get through my Dark Suit. 

But honestly, that’ll be fine. I’m not planning to get into any serious fights. 

Just learn how to get around, that’s all. 

Today will probably be like all of the others. Try uselessly to Corridor, fight a few Heartless that pop up, gather some synthesis stuff, go to the bakery. 

Unless I change it up a bit. 

“Hey, Riku? I’ve got an idea.”

“What?” Riku looks so very tired. Much more tired than any young teenager should be. 

“What if...” I tap my chin. Once. Twice. “I took a look at your Dark Corridor from the inside? On the way to the Castle?”

Riku thinks on that, for a moment, before nodding his agreement. 

“We’ve tried everything else. That might help.”

“All right!” I grin. “Let’s try it out!”

Maybe if I wrap it up real fast...we can go to the bakery afterwards and try the cinnamon rolls!

Riku holds out his hand, all dramatic-like. The Corridor opens, tearing itself into reality. Riku, of course, goes first. I follow soon after. 

Eyes going all around, checking everything very carefully around me. The best I can, while Riku goes ahead. I pause, despite the cold, despite the growing tightness on my lungs and really _look_. 

Examine the wall, the tunnel around me. The pressure increases on my hand as it draws closer and closer to actually touching that wall. 

I want to see! How does he do it? How does this work?

Somehow, reaching out both physically and mentally, something...happens. 

**_REARIPPPP._ **

Ringing in my head. My face scrunches up in response, my ears screaming. 

I...tore a hole. Shredded a piece of this Dark Corridor. This tunnel in the Dark between worlds. Exposing us to that same outside Darkness. 

“Oops.”

“Ruse?” Hm, that sounds like worry. 

“Don’t worry!” I call back. “Got everything under con-”

The hole I’ve poked into the side of Riku’s tunnel, its edges suddenly flare outward. Everything inexplicably feels heavier, darker. The Darkness surrounding me, of Riku’s, frays and seems to peel apart before my eyes. 

My own Corridor-hole thing almost leaps like a snake. Swallowing everything up around me. And then me. 

A collapse. Pressure enough to almost cause my lungs to pop like grapes. 

“Ruse!”

I fall. 

And it is so very Dark. 

* * *

There is simply too much information to go through. 

DiZ has no idea, even, what of it will be useful to his crusade. Who knew what box of rabbits he would open, in looking into the “Replica Project.” Only Ev- no, _Vexen_ would put in some much effort for something like this. An extension of his biological studies and an intense interest in the heart. 

Yet the fact that Organization XIII has put so much effort into it is encouraging, in a way. Replicas...they mean _something_ , to the creatures that once were his apprentices. But what? Why replicas?

Hopefully the King will return soon, with some useful information. DiZ is certainly getting nothing from Riku at the moment, about the Organization. 

DiZ narrows his orange eyes at the screen. What is _No. i?_ An imaginary number...that means what? 

He makes to click the file open. 

Only to be interrupted. 

“DiZ!”

Riku. In a panic. Bursting through the door in a flurry of Darkness and emotion. DiZ sighs, deeply and silently to himself. Turns from his research to the boy. 

“Calm down. What has gone wrong?” _Now?_

“Ruse is gone!” Riku manages, between heavy pants for breath. 

DiZ’s heart (what’s left of it) freezes in his chest. “She has betrayed us?”

Riku shakes his head vehemently. “Never! It’s just...I failed her. I lost her.” Gloved hands become fists, as the boy stares at the floor. Clearly disappointed in himself. 

“Lost her?”

“She...the Corridor fell apart!”

A Corridor falling apart...what a terrible thing to occur. 

DiZ shakes his head. “There will be no finding her, if that is the case.” The replica could be anywhere, including the realm he escaped from. 

“There’s no way to track her?” Riku persists, worry loud and clear. 

“Not from something like that.”

Now, to other plans, plans that the replica’s disappearance will affect, quite deeply. 

If Naminé knows that the replica is missing...she’ll stop her work on Sora’s memories right away. As per the threat she made to Riku. 

Unfortunately. 

“We must keep this quiet,” he advises the boy. 

Riku looks...unhappy about that advice. “But she should know. Naminé. Ruse is her friend, after all.”

“She’ll stop helping Sora if you do.” A trump card, to play. One that gets Riku listening, and nodding his head. 

“You’re right...”

“What’s going on?”

Another voice, one much less welcome than the first. DiZ and Riku both turn their heads to see the topic of their conversation standing in the doorway. Glowing as bright as a star, as she bangs her hand into the doorframe. 

“What happened to Ruse?”

* * *

Someone ranting. I feel like I know who it is, the voice is familiar...

“This is ridiculous! How much trouble can one replica get into!”

I gasp. Bubbles escape from my mouth. A different voice, a quiet whisper in my ear. My own. Or rather, _Riku’s_ own. 

“You should probably wake up before they set you on fire.”

Loud cracking sounds in my ears. 

My eyes fly open and I shoot up into a sitting position. Something cold falls from my face into my lap. I look down, pick it up. Cold. White. Ice. 

Around me...I’m sitting in a puddle. A puddle with rapidly melting...I squint. Ice cubes? Why am I surrounded by _ice?_

Look to my left. 

“Whoa, it’s a good thing I didn’t roll over.”

Would hurt a lot, going over that cliff. Pretty sheer, rocky and black and foreboding like the rest of my surroundings. A huge dark cave, with weird fog _everywhere_. Little blue lights. All below me, below that cliff edge. 

Look to my right. Agh. 

_People_. Or rather, some devilish-looking creatures. Imps. One’s got a hand on fire. Looking like deer caught in headlights as I look them over.

Familiar, where have I-?

Ah, I remember who these little guys are. They’re from Hercules! Or rather, Olympus Coliseum, as the world is called in Kingdom Hearts. Pink, short and lumpy is Pain while green, tall, and pointy is Panic, I think? Pretty sure. 

I jerk my head towards Pain, with the fire in his hand. Try to keep my heart steady as I say, evenly, “Don’t need that, thanks.”

“It’s awake!” Panic hisses, backing up rapidly to stand behind Pain. Pain extinguishes the flame with the closing of his fist. “And not frozen anymore!”

“I can see that!” he hisses back. 

I slowly start scooting away from them. 

Only to stop right in my tracks when one of my hands slips, out into the air. The cliff, much too close for my tastes. 

Uh oh. 

They’re getting closer now. Looking none too friendly. 

“Maybe if we push it over, the boss won’t get too mad?” Panic suggests. 

Hm, don’t like that. 

“We can try!” Pain supports the suggestion rather eagerly. 

_Really_ don’t like that. 

Don’t really want to fight them right now...especially at the edge of a cliff. 

Wait. In the Kingdom Hearts games, there’s one continuous thread in Hades’ plotting: getting someone to fight for him in the Coliseum. To eventually go up against Hercules, so Hercules can’t stop him in his takeover. 

That leaves me an opening. 

An option. 

If I’m clever enough, this could be an opportunity in the future. 

“Your boss...he wants fighters, doesn’t he?” I say slowly. 

Pain and Panic exchange glances with each other, before Pain steps forward. “So what? You offering?”

“I am, actually. Wouldn’t it impress your boss if you produced an excellent fighter for him in the Coliseum, without having to bother him about it? Wouldn’t he be _proud_?”

“...” Pain says nothing, as does Panic. But neither makes a motion to topple me into the pit of souls. A good sign. 

I continue. 

“And if I fail...” I shrug, trying to hide my slight shaking with the movement. Rocks crumbling under my hands. “Well, you lose nothing. Boss doesn’t know, you can just sweep it under the rug. Pretend nothing happened. Win-win.”

“And do you get out of this, h-huh?” Panic adds in, tapping his foot against the ground in a jittery motion. 

“Well, my life, first of all. No killing me.” I shake a finger at them. “Second of all, power.”

The pair both nod their heads at that. They get it, like I knew the little self-centered shits would. Probably won’t occur to them that I might be here for more than that. Which I’m not, currently. But I’m sure I’ll come up with something...

“So, how ‘bout it? Ready to deal?”

I stick out a gloved hand. Use my other to steady my precarious position. Grab onto the edge.

The two imps exchange looks before returning their yellow-eyed stares back to me. 

“You say you’re a fighter...” Panic starts. 

Pain finishes his sentence. 

“Prove it.”

Uh. That’s not good. 

With that, Pain gives me a nice shove. Just enough to knock me into the nice-looking shadow pit that most certainly will not eat me alive. Falling. 

Just manage to get my feet under me before I fall on my head, cracking the black dark with the force of my almost superhero landing. 

Okay, that was _no_ falling damage. For real, that time. 

“Awesome,” I breathe, rising from my awkward squat. 

Around me...well...

Whoa, that’s a _lot_ of red eyes looking at me. Snarls as a pack of... _something_ wakes up to see a new tender morsel in their grasp. 

Beans. 

I blink and blink, bringing my surroundings into focus. The dogs around me lighting themselves on fire also helps with that. 

Pinkish skin, funny enough, with blue flames that pop and spark out of it. About border collie size. 

(Firefirefire.)

Hellhounds. Or _heck_ hounds, if you want to be technical. Disney technical. 

(Firefirefire.)

I force myself to breath as the first hound launches itself at me. Howling. The rest of its pack members follow shortly after. 

( _Burning_ flesh.)

(Like my scar right now.)

The Darkness is easy to call here. The easiest it’s ever been. In fact, it’s almost _too_ eager to come to me, nearly bowling me over with the force of its appearance. 

Swirling out of me, lashing out at the enemies that attempt to devour me alive. Almost devouring _me_ in the process, burning against my skin. 

I want to _eat_ them. I’m so very hungry...

_You’re afraid. Darkness always comes strongly after fear._

Struggle to breathe. I _can’t_ freeze up now, my uncontrolled Darkness is just barely keeping the hounds back. I _have to keep moving._

_Get my shield out!_

My left arm comes up, shield summoned on it. Just in time to catch the leaping dog, to bounce it off and away. My Darkness dies down a bit, almost in response. As does my irrational hunger. 

Another dog throws itself at my shield. Scrambles at the smooth surface, jaws open and snapping and snarling. 

Whoa, that’s a _lot_ of saliva. Droplets sprinkle on my boots, hissy and spitting as they do so. Making an _unpleasant_ smell in the process. Ugh. Don’t like that. 

I know good people don’t kick puppies. But then, good people usually are not face-to-face with demonic puppies that possibly have magic rabies. I kick the puppy _hard._ Right in the snout. 

The whimpering sounds I get in response kinda leave me feeling bad. I don’t stop kicking, though. I am not dying here. 

If that means kicking puppies, so be it. 

Unpleasant squishes under my boots. But less stink and acid-sounds, which is good!

_Enough!_

Something else surges out from my feet. Not Darkness, but _ice_. Spiraling out in a huge snowflake shape. The nearest hounds growl and howl, jumping off the new terrain immediately. Almost like it’s...burning...their paws. 

“You dogs don’t like ice, huh?” I smile. Flick out my hands and small ice shards fling out towards my enemies. “Then why don’t you just _chill out?”_

Judging by the howls, I don’t think they liked my pun. Or it might be the dozens of glass-like fragments I’ve just embedded in their hides. Hard to tell. 

Just enough to get the dogs deciding that, hey, maybe they should stop attacking me. 

Start running off in the opposite direction. Which is nice. I didn’t really want to kill them. 

“Sweet.”

Flick my fingers. Let the shield fade away. Hungry. So pull out a granola bar for chomping. 

The whistling of a balloon getting the air let out of it. I pause, mid-bite. Frown. What is that? Another monster? 

Pain and Panic plop down right in front of me, Pain still letting air out in that ear-piercing whistle from his mouth. A clumsy landing, from a clumsy height. 

Ridiculous. 

All of this is so ridiculous. 

They start talking to me right away. 

“So...we’ve talked.” Pain taps his foot. 

“You’re good enough for the job!” Panic says, almost cheerfully. 

I narrow my eyes. Throw my hands (one with food bar still in it) up in the air. 

“You shoved me into a pit of hellhounds!”

Panic twiddles his thumbs. “But you survived it! Right?”

I stare at him. “...Right.”

“And they’re _Hades_ hounds,” Pain corrects me. “Duh.”

“Ah, Hades hounds, how could I forget?” That actually makes sense, if it’s Hades, not hell, here. Kind of weird to think about. 

I wave my granola bar in front of my face. Enough thinking about the names and terms of Underworld dogs. Now, to the subject at hand. 

“You pushed me over a cliff. The deal was for if you didn’t. Therefore-” I poke up my index finger, turning to walk away. “Null and void. Have a nice day.”

Hear the sounds of scuttling behind me as the pair rush to run next to me. 

“Hey, w-wait!”

“Maybe we can talk about this?”

I pause. Smile. “Nope.” Go on walking. 

My surroundings are dark. Not too dark, since I can still see quite a ways ahead of me. The blue wisps floating everywhere provide enough light. A whispering light, a whispering sound. Mist constantly rises from the ground, no clear source to it. The cavern ceiling is far, far above my head, all pokey and spiky rock. The ground isn’t much either, lumps of stone constantly appearing from the fog in attempts to trip me. An eerie feeling, to all of this. 

But then, it is the _Underworld_ after all. Land of the dead. 

Be a shame if it weren’t creepy. A let-down. 

I ignore the chatter of the imps following me and continue onward. Shove the rest of my snack into my mouth, vanish the wrapper. Yum, but not really. 

Enough to hold back the Darkness attempting to creep into my bones, from my gut. Just barely enough. 

The wisps keep floating in closer to me. Keep trying to land on me, no matter how often my hands go up to shoo them away. 

Dumb things. “Go away.”

They come close. 

“No. Away.” 

Whisper, whisper. Not actual words, just the whisper of the wind, of a dying breeze. 

Tugging at me. _Leading_ me. To where?

I go. There is nowhere else for me to go. I don’t know _where_ to go. I follow these little will-o-wisps, to hopefully not-my-doom. 

They lead me to...a cavern. A smaller cavern, than the rest of this. With a little river running through it, one that I cautiously step over. 

Know those legends about the River Styx and all that, after all. Don’t wanna risk anything terrible happening to me should I stick in even a pinky toe. 

As I behold what exactly is _in_ this cave, I can feel my eyebrows go up. Quickly, I readjust my bandana. White bear shape, with wings, with red pom-pom...it’s a Moogle!

Their back is to me, as they dig through...something. A chest?

“Hello there!” I beam, waving a frantic hand at them. 

The Moogle jumps suddenly. Twists around and lets out a breath when they see it’s only me. They peer at me with a heavy degree of caution. 

“Who are you, kupo?” Very flat voice there, buddy. I was expecting something more...bubbly. But maybe that’s stereotyping Moogles. 

Hm. Do I really want to give out my name, with my weirdo followers on my tail? Pain and Panic still whispering like manics right behind me? Not really. 

“Um...that’s a secret!”

I swear I see the Moogle’s wings droop at that. 

“Do you want to buy anything?”

Ah, yes, _Moogles._ The vendors that are _everywhere_ in Kingdom Hearts. Even right before Boss Battles. _Especially_ right before Boss Battles. 

Wait. Moogles are everywhere. Moogles...can travel worlds. Aha! 

Boy, I think I just found my way back to Castle Oblivion. 

“Hey, can I go off-world with you?” I lean forward, still smiling, hands behind my back. 

The Moogle peers at me again. “...only if you pay me.”

My smile instantly falls off, to splatter like a bird hitting a glass window. I don’t have any money, er, _munny_...but if there are Hades hounds around here, there must be some other monsters I can farm. Hopefully they do drops. 

“How much?”

“Some synthesis materials will do, kupo,” the Moogle decides, little wings fluttering frantically. 

Synthesis materials, hm. Oh man, Riku’s been taking all the ones gathered so far. Guess I _do_ have to go farm. Argh. 

“Alright! I can do that! Just wait for me, kay?”

“Hurry,” the Moogle directs me, in the same flat tone they’ve been using for everything. 

I squint at them. “...okay.”

Make the cave doorway. Maybe the lights can direct me to monsters, they got me here after all?

Summon my shield, preparing. 

_I am not sure about trustworthiness of strange spirits._

Hm. Let’s go for it. But first, to deal with my imp stalkers. 

I stare them down. “I’m going hunting,” I announce, “You can be my meat shields, if you want.”

They both quickly shake their heads. “No, no!” Panic says frantically. “We’ll stay right here!”

“Great.” Give a wave to the imps and the Moogle. “See you later.”

Whispering, in the cave...gets louder all of a sudden. The shadows are deeper, reaching. I don’t like it. Not at all. 

A whisper of purple, in the corner of my eye. When I turn to look...nothing. 

“An illusion, that’s all. That’s it,” I breathe to myself, just under a whisper. 

Get out of here, get on the hunt. The Moogle won’t wait for me forever. 

Hm, now where are some other monsters...? Any Heartless?

I hope so. 

* * *

Mosh can’t _wait_ until they get the holograms working. It’ll be great not to be in this creepy place in person any longer. 

Besides, ghosts don’t make the greatest of customers. 

Things always wisp and wish in the corners of his eyes. Leaves his wings shivering. Especially the new ghost thing, that always vanishes whenever he tries to get a better look at it. Purple and black and silver...something like a book shape? Something new, something _hungry_. An angry ghost, that probably died pretty awfully to make Mosh feel so ill whenever he glimpses it. 

Even the light of the Safe Point isn’t enough to drive it away, like it has with so many other hostile spirits in the past. 

Yep. A very good reason to take a break. Go to the nearest nexus world, go home to visit Mog. 

All expected, all planned. Until now. 

The kid is unexpected. Very much so. Especially asking for a way off this world. Wonder how they got here in the first place, if they know enough to ask to go to a different world. 

Hopefully the kid isn’t actually dead. There’s not a lot Mosh can do for them if they are. 

But you never know with ghosts. Half the time around here, they don’t even know that they’re dead. Especially the people-shaped ones. A serious mark like that...speaks for a pretty serious death, if that’s the case. 

Not remembering their own name...that’s not a good sign, a tally against the kid being alive. The dead nearly always _forget_ their names. 

Mosh huffs to himself, checking through his synthesis recipes for the third time. 

Doesn’t matter. If the kid’s dead, they won’t be able to bring back any synthesis materials. Only the living can do that. A simple way to check. 

Plus, he makes a profit. Perfect. 

The imps are talking. Again. They seem to see Mosh as some sort of background furniture, for all the care they take in their conversational topics. 

Hades’ plots, usually. Things they probably shouldn’t be talking about in front of him. 

But most people see Moogles as props and little more. 

Mosh’s used to it. Doesn’t mean he has to like it...but having no one pay attention to you does have its uses at times. 

Mosh continues sorting through his gear, keeping one ear open. 

“-Kid’s right, we do need fighters! That crazy hero goes through them like Cerberus does through steaks!”

“But the deal! She said it was off?”

The pink one waves a clawed finger. “Yeah, she did. But the first time...she said don’t kill her and she wants power. And we can do that, can’t we?”

The green one starts to grin. “Oh, yes, we can.”

Mosh packs. His paws shiver, just a bit. 

That kid better not be dead, because that? That sounds like a whole lot of trouble they’ve just dug themselves into, making deals with Hades’ minions. 

Might need an escape. Not that he gives people escapes, not really. Not without payment. Payment that will hopefully be coming soon, to take back “home.” 

(Was it really home, fallen as it was?)

“Hurry, kid,” he whispers under his breath, in his native tongue. “You’ll need all the luck you can get, kupo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be an Organization member introduced to Ruse in the next few chapters. Any guesses?
> 
> Kinda handy how the Moogles in KH2 have actual names, hm? Bonus cookies to anyone who can guess what world Mosh considers his home world.


	18. Unsent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is an Unsent, a Hero, and lots of talking. A surprise Nobody, perhaps?

Very little changes in Hades’ Underworld. The monsters breed, the dead grow in number, the imps obey, and its god plots. It is predictable, if one is careful to avoid the attention of the gods. 

Which unfortunately, Braska has never been good at. Nor is his partner and Guardian Auron. 

Auron, who has been trapped and chained for daring to speak against the gods. 

In _Tartarus._

Again.

Braska doesn’t breath. He doesn’t need to, being dead. But he still sighs. There must be _something_ he can do, to free Auron. Sooner than last time, at least. 

He would rather not _seduce_ anyone this time around either. 

Regret aches in him, burns in every move he makes. Yet it keeps him going, as an Unsent, that Regret. Keeps him in a cohesive form. 

There is still so very much to change, even in this land of the dead. No time to rest. 

Humming. He pauses, mid-step. Music, this deep in Hades? Has some hero trespassed into the depths once more?

...A hero would make a handy distraction, to rescue Auron. And perhaps a hero would like some assistance. 

Braska moves forward, wisping over the ground with no feet at all. Not even the memory of them. 

Until he sees his quarry. Not a hero at all, but someone much too young, much too small to serve as one properly. 

The ghost of a child, in the heart of the Underworld? Still shaped like one?

It takes willpower, and a lot of it, to stay a cohesive human shape after dying. The more time that passes, the harder that becomes. Her Regret is so very heavy, lifetimes heavy. Attracting all of the wisps of the dead to her call. 

Wearing armor, carrying a shield, eying her surroundings so cautiously...

Ah. 

The battlefield. A place that breeds many stubborn spirits and hauntings. 

Perhaps he can give this newly dead soul some guidance. Until he figures out what to do next, about Auron. 

Braska glides up to the spirit. 

“Hello.”

The humming stops right away. 

She jumps, spinning around with her almost oversized shield to face him. “Ah! Don’t _do_ that!” Pauses, squinting dark eyes at him. “Who are you, anyway? Do I know you?”

He can't but laugh lightly at that. “I would hope you don’t know me. I’ve been dead for quite a long time.”

“Oh, you’re a ghost.”

As are you, he doesn’t say. Unlike Auron, Braska does have _some_ tact. Not quite enough to keep him from asking what he decides to ask next, though. 

“You’re quite young. Tell me, how did you die?”

The child blanches. Grows paler, her scars standing out brightly against the lack of color in the rest of her face.

“D-die? I’m not dead!”

Oh?

Braska looks her over. Head to toe. Notes the way her chest moves, the way she needs to take in air to form words rather than simply speaking. The solidness of her feet planted into the bedrock beneath the mist, rather than floating over it like himself. 

All small details of the living, those details he had almost forgotten in his time spent being deceased. 

“Oh. My mistake.” Braska bows. Briefly, slightly. A measure of apology. 

“Why would you think _that?”_ The child puts her hands on her waist. Gives him the stink eye. 

It is difficult to explain his reasoning. Especially to someone who he has no idea how much she knows about this world. Or about what fate awaited the dead, here. 

If not one of the dead, why is the feeling of Regret so strong about her-? 

Ah. Those deep shadows. Of course. 

“You carry some fairly strong spirits on your shoulders, for one so young.”

“Er, thanks?”

Oh, before he forgets. Braska almost laughs at himself out loud. Manners, a long time since he last used those here. 

“What is your name?” 

The child puffs up her chest. “Ruse! What’s yours?”

“Braska.”

“Braska...hm.” Ruse taps her chin with her free hand, tilting her head in thought. Reaching up to tug at the cloth on her head. “That name sounds kinda familiar...do you have a daughter?”

Braska gives the matter some thought. Since it was asked seriously. “...none that I recall.”

“Hmm.” Ruse hums to herself. “...Do you have any friends?”

Braska looks up towards the rocky ceiling far above the two of them. “One. His name is Auron.”

He certainly doesn’t expect the response _that_ gets from the girl. 

“Auron’s your _friend?!”_ Ruse stops right in place. “You’re _that_ guy?”

Braska raises an eyebrow. “You’ve heard of him, hm?”

“Um.” Ruse shuffles her feet before looking up at him. “Do you know where any monsters are?”

He can inquire more about how this child apparently knows about Auron later. And himself. Braska wasn’t aware of any legends about him and his Guardian still persisting. 

Right now, she needs some assistance. Otherwise she might wander off, like she’s doing at this very moment. He calls after her, “There are some flans over the ridge in that direction...”

* * *

  
  


There’s a humming in my blood that increases the more time I spent with Braska. Feels like the little blue orbs that keep brushing up against my face, trying to land on me. 

I breathe and it’s like the world breathes with me, fuzzy and cold in my veins. 

What is going on?

I’m with _Braska._ From Final Fantasy X. A game I played so long ago that I only recall the faintest of details from it. 

Braska, who never showed up in Kingdom Hearts, but his buddy Auron _did._ Auron, who is not currently with us. Hm. Auron who was trapped in Hades’ prison if I remember my Kingdom Hearts 2 properly. Is he still there at this point? Has he always been there?

Braska, I don’t remember much about him, except that he’s Yuna’s dad in Final Fantasy X, that he became the High Summoner, and Auron was his Guardian. 

Anything else? Nope. 

He wears flowing red robes that remind me of a flower, the way they flow at the sleeves, hiding his hands. Some strange head thing with white spines and a blue gem in the center, over a flowing white head wrap. Like mine, but with less purple and stars and more cloth...so not like mine at all. His red robes are also covered in strange symbols that I have no hope of ever identifying. 

Doesn’t mean I won’t be wondering about them. 

“There they are. The flan.”

My new...companion(?) points over into the thickest bits of the fog. I squint. “Huh?”

He points again. At some glowing red spots. 

“Huh.” Step forward, squint again. Ah, now I see them. Clearish blobs with a red tinge to them, weird gaping holes under dark red pupil-less eyes. Flans! Monsters, for farming. 

I run forward and my shield is out.

“Wait!”

Somewhere in the corner of my heart, I am deeply relieved that I am not killing and hunting animals like the heckhounds. No, I’m just killing living mucus blobs that squish under my blows. Much better. 

One of the so-called mucus blobs makes a loud burping noise. Spews out _liquid fire._

I hesitate in my step, heart skipping a beat. At the smell, the _heat._

(Firefirefire.)

“Why is everything here so determined to traumatize me!?” I scream. Darkness swirls about me once more. 

But I don’t need it. 

A chunk of ice flies past me, _through_ the nearest flan. Putting it and its fire out. My head turns, just enough to catch that _Braska’s_ got his hand outstretched. Holds a staff. 

“Don’t worry!”

Spellcaster. Of course. How could I forget?

I return to bashing at the flan with a renewed spring to my step. Breathe and my shadow dies down. I have no need to fear. Not with Braska and his Blizzard spells watching my back. The buzz increases in my veins at the very _thought_ of it. 

We clean through the pack, the flock, the _whatever_ , quickly enough. Quick enough to discover these monsters drop...parts. Squishy goo bits everywhere that refuse to fade away. Not synthesis parts. Nothing that looks like the crystals I’m familiar with. What a pain. Looks like I _really_ need to find an actual Heartless around here to get what I need. 

But how do I do that?

“Do you know where any Heartless are?”

“Heartless?” Well, guess that answers my question. 

“What about monsters that drop synthesis materials?”

Braska tilts his head, with its ridiculous headdress, back a bit. Thinking. “...The Moogle should accept these parts, if you have a method to properly carry them.”

I look at him. Then the slippery jelly all over the ground. Still wiggling. Look back at Braska again. Properly carry flan goo. _Right._

“Any ideas?”

“Well, here’s a trick I learned from being on the road...” Braska kneels, next to the nearest red pile. Scoops up some of the wobbly stuff and focuses. A flash of white light, and the wobbling watery mess becomes something far more solid. Glistening under the blue lights. 

“How’d you do _that?”_

Braska tilts his head as he slowly rises to his feet, carrying the flan chunk. “An applied Blizzard.”

Ice? Ice spell? “Oh, I can do that!”

My hand right away goes for the nearest puddle. Squishy and feel like jelly, sticking to my fingers and _oozing_. I hold it in both hands. Wibbling and wobbling. 

What does it feel like, to use _ice?_ Actually use it, not just let it burst out of me in the middle of a fight. 

Darkness is easy. Darkness is my hunger, let loose to grow and grow until I reel it back in. Sating it with baked goods and trail snacks. 

(Darkness is my fear. My _anger_.)

Ice...that’s harder. What is ice? I tap at my chin, scratch at my scar. 

“How do you do Blizzard, Braska?” Should have asked Naminé this before, since she’s got the magic book. Oh well. Too late now. 

“I focus on my magic and cast it.”

I narrow my eyes at the glob in my hands. Focus. Ice, ice, _ice!_ Nothing. Just as useless as my attempts to Corridor. I’m going to have to try something else then. 

If my Darkness comes from my gut, my hunger...gotta try another emotion for ice. See if that works. Think, think. What to do, to _feel?_

“Blizzard is a partner to Fire,” Braska’s quiet voice follows along with my thoughts. Prompts them as I focus on the slime. “Fire is often considered wild, full of passion and rage. But Blizzard can be rageful as well. How are they different? How are they the same?”

(Burns...)

I shiver at the thought. Good thing I can’t do Fire, never ever. Ugh. 

What did Fire take from me? Can Ice give it back, unlike the Dark?

_Fire, it burns and burns and burns. Gone._

My breath quickens, along with these strange thoughts. Are they mine? Were they ever mine?

_Empty in my chest. Nothing matters. Why would it matter? Did it ever matter? Lost my heart, lost...what did I lose?_

_Everything._

_Reach and push-_

“Freeze,” I breathe, and out comes the frost in my hands. Freezes the goo solid, cold as an icicle. Oh, that’s good. 

Feels empty in my chest. Like when I woke up and realized that this body was not my own. Knew that nothing would ever be the same again. 

_Loss._

“Ha! I did it!” Now to put this goo-block away.

Wait. I frown. Try wiggling my fingers. My stuck, can’t move fingers. “Um, Braska, I need your help...”

* * *

  
  


“You and Auron have been together a long time, huh?”

“Long enough that I can recall very few times we are apart,” Braska affirms. 

My hand goes up to scratch at my scar. Thinking. Sounds hard to be a part like that. 

“That’s a long time, all right. Uh.” Auron’s in prison. “Are you looking for him now?”

Braska’s face is a bit sad. “I know where he is.” He looks to the path ahead, our path filled of blue orbs. “In Tartarus.”

So he knows. I frown, and my fingers dig in deeper. 

“Tell me.” The words fall from my lips before I can call them back. Do I want to call them back? No. I will listen. 

Braska smiles. With the edge of that same emotion he’s been full of this entire time...what’s the word? Ah, that’s right. _Sorrow._ Sorrowful. 

A mourning that I feel like I could never hope to match. Glass in my chest, crunching, breathing, shattering. 

“You’re kind, to listen.”

At that, I have to laugh. Laugh and shake my head. “Me? Ha! I’m _nice_ , not _kind_.”

Those red flowing sleeves come up, as he presumably puts his hidden hands underneath them together. 

“Kind...you do good stuff for nothing if you’re kind. Nice? Just a face, just a mask. You wear nice so you don’t scare the kid away, wear nice so someone won’t erase you and will think you’re great instead.” I take a breath. Tap my fingers against the shield that I hold, the shield that means so much about what I am now, more than anything else in this life of mine so far. 

I miss...so much. I miss who I used to be, Before.

What would I give, to be back in Before? 

“Nice doesn’t mean anything. Not really.”

“You wear a smile to assure others. To take away their sorrows.”

I think about that. Think about Naminé, especially. “...I guess?”

Mostly I smile so no one asks me if anything’s wrong. Because I _don’t want to talk about it._ Think about it. Safer that way, less likely to hurt. 

“What a heavy burden you’ve picked for yourself...” Braska shakes his head, a breathy sound _almost_ like a laugh escaping him. A laugh if it weren’t for the note of regret tainting it. 

“What’s yours? Tell me.” This man is with burdens too, I just know it. Not with that sorrow in him, the fact that he’s _dead._

(How did he die?)

(Was it quick?)

(Did he suffer?)

“Do I need to track down Auron for you? Would that help?” Don’t know how I would break Auron out of Hades-prison, but I think I could figure _something_ out...maybe get some help after I hitchhike with the Moogle and get to the castle? Bet a _Keyblade_ would be able to do something, if I got Mickey on my side-

A laugh. An actual laugh. Something light-hearted and somewhat...incredulous? Is he ...laughing at me? 

“I’m sorry, but you are...very much a Guardian. Much like Auron.” Braska readjusts his strange hat, as he continues smiling at me. 

That’s a capital letter G Guardian there. What could he mean by that? But I say nothing, stay quiet. Allowing him to speak more. 

“I died to kill grief itself. To lift a veil of sorrow over my people, that they might be able to smile once more.”

“Did you succeed?”

Braska pauses. Turns his head, his eyes away from mine, the rest of his body still directed towards me. 

“For a time. I bought them a few years.”

I rub my lips together, moistening the dryness. Something prickles at the corners of my eyes. An entire life, for _years._ Not even decades, it sounds like. Not a life for an entire lifetime, even less than that. “Tell me, was it worth it?”

_Of course._

“Of course.”

I wish I could say that, with half as much confidence. What I’ve done, is it worth it? I don’t know. Not yet. 

Maybe I’ll never know. 

Braska nods, once. 

“You are not ready, to carry my Regret. But this...let me be with you, if even for only this short time.”

The buzzing in my veins suddenly stops. Like someone’s just slammed a door shut. What? What just happened?

His hands come out of his sleeves. One, to wrap his fingers around the edge of Frozen Pride. While his left takes mine. My burnt hand. 

His touch is not warm. How could it be? He’s dead. No, it’s as cold as ice. As cold as the shield I use and carry. 

“Let me be a Guardian, for the first time. For you, young one.”

I can’t help but ask. “Why me? Why protect _me?_ ” 

Surely there must be other people that he cares about more, like Auron. People that he would be leaving behind for some nobody, for someone he just met. 

“You remind me of myself. And I...I know how it ended for me.”

I pull my shield free of his hand. But his other hand...I let it stay. It’s...nice. Even if it’s freezing me slowly. At least my Dark Suit is keeping most of the chill out. 

“So...you’ll stay with me.”

Braska inclines his head. “Until you leave this world behind.”

There’s only one thing I can say in response to that, as I at last pull away. To start walking once again. 

“Thank you.”

I don’t know what more to say, after that. And Braska seems perfectly content to travel in silence. So we walk on, saying nothing. 

Me, wracking my brain for something to say, because being quiet is a real pain, you know. Braska, quiet and watchful. As we go for more flan. 

Perfect team. Really. 

...Man, now I miss Riku. So fun to poke at and watch him squirm. Or Naminé, curious and full of questions and art. I wonder if one day I’ll run out of answers for her. 

...I miss them. 

I need to go back as fast as I can. 

_The path of the Guardian...the shield to protect all. The power to push away all._

Shake my head. Keep going. Find the next flan squad.

Doesn’t matter. 

* * *

“Fricking _flan.”_

Exploded all over my face, too, lousy thing. Red sticky jam-like goo dripping down my face, my chest. I sigh and resist the urge to curse the heavens. Swiping at the goo just makes it spread, so eventually I just resign myself to being covered in monster bits. Until I can get back to Castle Oblivion. There _must_ be a shower around there, right? DiZ would probably spray me with water or something, at least, to keep me from dripping all over his stolen lab. Ugh. 

There’s a bathroom, at least. I know that much...for reasons. 

“An unfortunate side-effect of fighting in close range,” Braska says serenely. Very carefully _not_ smiling. 

I stick out my tongue at him. “Jerk.”

Lean down, scoop up the goo bits and freeze (with some focus). Again and again. What I’ve been doing this whole time. Hopefully it’ll serve as good enough for the Moogle. 

Wanna find some synthesis dropping monsters just in case, though. 

“Hm. Monster popsicles.” Wonder if I can eat them?

Feeling hungry again and I don’t _really_ want more granola bars...probably should resist that urge. Resist. The. Urge. 

Braska tilts his head, headpiece flopping a little. “Do you hear that?”

Frowning, I pause to listen too. 

“Is that... _music?”_ Music in the Underworld. I bounce a bit, looking in the direction it must be coming from. “Let’s check it out!”

I rush ahead. No trouble, with Braska watching my back with his staff in hand. No fear. 

Only to find...in the middle of a ring of rocks, a guy in a certain black coat rocking out on a musical instrument. 

Holy crap. Holy _crap._

“Hi!” I wave. 

And Demyx looks up from his sitar, right at me and Braska. 

“Eep!” Demyx’s blue eyes widen. _Scales_ suddenly grow and grow along the side of his face, dug into his more human-y flesh. Colored the same dirty blond color as his hair, tilted green. _Fish_ scales. 

Gills on his neck, three slits on both sides. Flapping noiselessly and rather uselessly.

Is he...some kind of fish guy? How _weird._

“Um, hello?” I stop a couple feet away from, shifting my balance from foot to foot. “Why are you here?” Wait. I have an idea. “Do you know where any Heartless are?”

Heartless _always_ drop synthesis stuff. That’s more reliable than taking flan chunks to the Moogle and hoping they’re enough. 

Demyx’s gloved fingers go up to scratch at his facial scales. “Heartless?”

I nod and smile, as big as I can. Got to convince him I’m not a threat. The smallest threat there ever was. 

(Even covered in flan goo.)

Demyx, if I recall correctly, _hates_ work but he always seemed especially distasteful about fighting Heartless. If there are some here...well, I’m sure he would _love it_ if I offered to take them off his hands. Enough to ignore that I’m a total weird stranger that just came up to him in the dark. 

“I’m looking for monsters to fight,” I explain.

Demyx lights up like the sun at that. “Oh, I can tell you _exactly_ where the Heartless are.”

And mumbles under his breath, “And Saix won’t be able to get mad about the work being done, ha!”

Hm. I think I’ll just ignore that. 

“And...” I thrust my chin at the sitar. “Could we listen to music, when we come back? Whatcha think, Braska?”

“An excellent idea,” the ghost agrees quietly. 

Demyx’s eyes widen again. “You want to listen to _me?”_

“Yeah, call it payment for the Heartless.” 

At that, Demyx seems to relax. The scales fade away, until they seem confined mostly to behind his ears. The flapping lessens until there is no noise at all. 

“That works.”

“So, Heartless?” I prompt. “Monsters?”

“Oh yeah!” Demyx gestures off to the right. “Just walk for a couple a minutes or so and you’ll find some right over!”

“All right. Be back soon!” I beam and twist on my heel towards where his finger points. 

Braska follows suit, shooting several glances at Demyx with some unknown emotion in his eyes. Demyx, who has returned to fiddling with his sitar. 

Once we’re further away, Braska asks me, “Do you know that man?”

I shrug. “Never met him.” Which is true. Totally true. I’ve never met Demyx before. 

“Hm.” Thankfully, Braska doesn’t inquire any further. Which is good, because I have no idea how good Nobody ears are and I don’t want to awkwardly ruin this for later. 

Just kill Heartless and get actually solid synthesis materials so I can get off this rock. 

Wandering a bit. No Heartless. Not yet, anyway. 

Squinting ahead, scar itching. I scratch. See _something_ , sparks of blue flame. Ah! I know those monsters, over there!

Hm. Heckhounds. Don’t really want to fight them. But...I frown. They’re awfully close to where Demyx said the Heartless would be. Even as I watch, _something_ swarms out of the earth and _attacks_ the heckhounds. The heckhounds, of course, howl and attack back. But...the something (Dark, for sure) hits all of them and the monsters...shrink. Keep their pinkish coloring but shrink and eyes get big and yellow and the flames die...

Turning into...Bad Dogs? Turning into _Heartless_.

“Oh _no_.”

As I launch myself towards the newly turned Heartless, I can’t help but berate myself. Because I _knew_ , didn’t I? That’s how Heartless work, that’s how they spread. Tearing the hearts of others and consuming it into themselves. 

Knew but thought nothing of it. Like this was still some silly game. 

This _never_ was a game. Shouldn’t I know this by now?

Frozen Pride comes easily to hand, smashing the creatures into paste before they even realize I’m among them. I get them and the something...it’s a Soldier. A common Soldier, that caused all of this. I narrow my eyes at it and smash it too. Into sticky bubbly blackness, goo so much like the jelly flans around here. Like the Heartless I squished in Twilight Town.

The stink...

“Tar. That’s it. That’s the smell.” Tar, on freshly paved road, clearly marked so no one will drive on it. Burning and rotten. Bubbling. 

I squat down, scoop up my drop. Black crystals, much darker than the Shadow ones of before. Hmmm. Don’t remember...

“What are these?” I hold them up to Braska. 

Keen eyes look them over. Tell me.

“Lucid Shards, I believe.”

My head aches. Vanish the shards. My gloved hands go up to rub at my temples. Please, go away. I don’t want to deal with that right now. Especially since I can’t exactly nap in the middle of the Underworld to make it go away.

Argh. Go back to Demyx, finish up the deal. Then find Mosh and leave. Excellent plan. I can handle that much. 

The Heartless...they’ll come back. Without a Keyblade, that’s what they’ll do. This world might be doomed. Maybe I should come back with Mickey. 

The path back is easy enough. Demyx is still there in that field of rocks, plucking at the strings of his sitar. As Braska and I come back, he looks up. 

“Oh, you’re still ali- you got them!”

“Yeah, we did.” Hm. Doesn’t have to sound so _shocked_ by that. Grr. I’m not helpless!

(Can’t afford to be.)

Hold up a Lucid Shard. Only one. I need the rest. “Need proof?”

Demyx shakes his head. “Nope! Back at the Castle, they’ve got something that...never mind. I don’t need anything.”

Hmmm. How _does_ the Organization determine if a job is finished or not? Surely Demyx would not do work at all and claimed he did it, instead of pushing it onto everyone else instead. If that were an option. 

Hmmm. 

Well, I’ll think about that later. Put it next to the mental “Heartless Repel?” and consider more options later. First, to answer my other mental inquiry. 

“You promised music too!” I chirp. 

Demyx freezes. “You...still want to hear that?”  
“Of course.” I’m curious, after all. And it’s been a while since I’ve been able to just sit down and listen to music. Used to do that a lot, Before. Miss it. 

Glance back at Braska. He smiles and nods yes. He’ll listen too, then. Yay!

For all his claims of being a musician in the games, I don’t think I’ve heard Demyx play a single song. Other than the infamous “Dance, Water, Dance” rock-metal boss tune. 

...What will he play? I find myself eager to find out. 

I settle down on the rock. Rock’s cold against my butt, so I curl up on top of my legs. 

Braska doesn’t sit, but I’m not entirely sure if he can feel tired from standing. Probably not, since he’s dead and all. Stays standing, off to my right. 

We listen, as Demyx begins to play. Strums his sitar, picking out his notes carefully and not carefully at all, all at once. 

He sings no words but the music speaks loud enough for him without them. 

A steady beat, almost like a heartbeat. 

Longing, maybe? But for what?

All I know is my cheeks a bit wet, by the time he finally ends the song. 

“What’s it called?”

Demyx half-shrugs, finger going up to dig into his strange gills. “...It doesn’t have a name.”

Oh. 

“Do you want one? For the next time you play it?” I ask. Demyx looks a little startled at that, gills flapping, though I don’t know why. 

“You want to listen again?”

“Yeah, but-” I think to the Moogle, who might have left already. “Need to leave.”

I rise to my feet. 

“I can come up with a name, for next time?” I propose. 

Demyx grins at that. “Yeah, love for you to do more work for m- I mean, listen to my music!”

Braska bows. “Farewell.”

And with that, Braska and I head off in the direction of the Moogle Cave. ...I think. Probably?

Leaving Demyx behind us. 

“What’d you think of that, Braska?”

“Well. He is certainly a skilled musician.”

“Yeah. I guess he is.”

Braska taps his staff against the ground. “...Perhaps Auron will like to hear him.”

I glance up at him. “Yeah. We’ll make sure of it.” I promise. 

I want to come back. Back to help Braska with Auron, and to explore even more of this place, without too much of a time limit. But how? How can I convince Riku to take me back here? Or have DiZ allow it, for that matter?

Mention Demyx, of course. Say I can get them sweet Organization secrets.

And...

A smile curls on my lips. 

I suppose Panic and Pain are still looking for fighters, aren’t they?

* * *

The kid shows up at the last minute, right when Mosh has decided he _can’t_ wait any longer. Mog is expecting him, after all. 

Good thing the kid appears before he leaves, then. Walking right up to him. Covered in strange, red goo...nope. Not gonna ask. Not his problem. 

After stopping just long enough to chat with the imps about something. Something that gets the stubborn beings to finally leave. 

Not that it’s any of his business, of course.

He is keeping out of this mess, the red mess dripping from the kid’s face and the mess of the imps. Better that way for everyone. 

“Will this work?” They ask, worry clear in their eyes, as they show him their goods. 

Mosh looks quickly, a courtesy glance with his expert eye. 

Lucid Shards, some chunks of frozen Fire Flan that could become Blazing Stones once processed correctly...not a bad haul. Definitely enough to prove that the kid is a live one. 

“Good enough, kupo,” he decides out loud. “Welcome aboard.”

The kid clenches their fist and thrusts it into the air. “Yes!”

Mosh turns to the kid’s new companion. A tall hu-man in red. “You coming too, kupo?”

The hu-man shakes their head. “No. I cannot.”  
“I’ll come back, Braska, I promise,” the kid says, the promise bright in those dark eyes. 

Fey eyes, almost. 

The hu-man nods. “Thank you.”

“No, thank _you._ ”

The red hu-man nods once more and then... _fades._ Disappears just like the shimmery purple ghost-thing that’s been hanging around. 

Mosh barely manages to keep his shakes and shivers on the inside, where they belong. 

Traveling with a ghost. That’s great. Absolutely great. At least the ghost wasn’t asking for passage, Mosh wasn’t exactly sure what he would have done about that. 

...Other than not take the ghost with him, of course. Can’t. 

The dead stay where they’re meant to.

Just the way Mosh likes ‘em.

But now everyone’s gone, who might have meddled with him leaving... 

“C’mon here, kid.”

“Hm?” Kid stands next to him. Watching intently as Mosh floats over to the Safe Point in the cave. 

There are multiple reasons to always set up shop next to a Safe Point, of course. One is that the green glow tended to keep all the monsters away and therefore the shopkeeper very safe! Another was that Safe Points healed one to their full state of health. Also useful if a shopkeeper was hurt, or if a potential customer was going to pass out before they could hand over the munny. 

But the most importantly...Mosh lands on Safe Point, the green circle lighting up around him. “We’ll go through here,” he announces, wings fluttering.

The kid follows, standing right next to him in the circle. 

“You travel using Save Points? How?”

For a moment, Mosh debates about whether he should tell them or not more about the Safe Points. It’s generally something kept to just Moogles, after all. 

But then, it’s a knowledge generally kept just to Moogles because _no one_ asks. Not even that wise old king that once ruled over the hu-mans before asked the Moogles what they knew. 

(More’s the pity, seeing how everything went.)

Mog should be okay, with him saying this much. At least. 

“Safe Points are _cracks_ , kupo. How else can us Moogles get through to sell our goods and then back out again, if there isn’t a space to let us through?”

The kid frowns. Means they’re taking this seriously, thinking it through, which is good. 

“A crack? What if something gets in?”

Mosh snorts. The kid doesn’t know. Of course they don’t, very few people outside of Moogles know anymore. “Of course something gets in. That’s what cracks are for, to let the Light in, kupo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Braska here has some similarities to his FFX version's background, much like KH Auron, but is not the exact same. Look, if you're going to put Auron in the end credits of KHII and have me think that he's letting all the spirits out, I can have him wandering around the Underworld with Braska screwing things up for Hades pre-canon.


	19. Unspeakable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a glimpse into the oddness of Moogles, the guilt of a king, and the mystery of the blond boy.
> 
> What does _____ ____ mean?

“Hm.”

Mosh tilts his head at the kid. Or the kid’s backside, really. 

“Oof.”

Maybe Mosh should have thought this through more. 

“Ugh.”

A Moogle ship is only meant for a Moogle. Not for a whole second hu-man shaped person trying to shove themselves into the back. Squish around Mosh at the wheel, the wheel Mosh should be facing and moving right now. 

At least the kid is a small hu-man. A hu-man that is buzzing against his pom-pom, now they’re in close quarters with one another. Which is strange because hu-mans don’t buzz. Not like Moogles do. 

“Uh, kid?”

“Don’t worry! I got this!”

The kid contorts their body into a strange position, curling around Mosh and the control panel. Careful to avoid touching both in the process. Filling the curve of the green egg-shaped ship. A ship with a red pom-pom on top, of course. 

Well. At least nothing’s hanging out. 

Two devices next to the main wheel. Well, two importants. The button and the level. Level for transfer to Safe Point, button for...well, Mosh would get to that soon enough. 

“Ready for take-off, kupo!” Mosh presses the button. The red button that means “time to break through world barriers.” The world fuzzes and buzzes, every color at once and then none at all. 

POP. 

The window changes from the green of a Safe Point light to the wide empty blackness of the Space In-Between. Full of wreckage, elemental scavenge, Heartless, and lately, a whole ton of silver bendy creatures. Lately being the last three months. 

Surprisingly more aggressive than the Heartless too, for some reason. 

And in the back, the kid has a pretty unexpected reaction to the jump. 

The kid  _ vomits.  _ On the floor of the ship, a weird blackish material. That hisses and bubbles and makes other strange noises.  _ Really  _ close to Mosh’s feet, good thing that Moogles can hover. Otherwise...

Hm. That doesn’t look natural. And the kid’s buzz...hums in his head, his pom-pom. Like a moglet that doesn’t know manners yet, almost. 

“Hey, kid, you’re cleaning that up.”

Kid jumps. Small movement, but it’s enough to shake the entire ship. 

“Yeah, um, do you have anything I can do that with?”

Uh. Does he?

Inventory, inventory...Mosh shuffles around until he pulls out an Elven Bandana. Hands it back, while careful to keep one paw on the wheel. Pressing it forward, flying through the Space on the same route he always takes. “This will work, kupo.”

The kid swipes the goo the best they can in the cramped space, the goo hissing away on the toughened fabric. They hold up the Elven Bandana. “Want this back?”

Mosh flies past yet another flock of the strange silver creatures that have been about lately. “Nope. Keep it, kupo.”

“Whoa, it’s pretty cool out here.”

Mosh looks around, through the window. Same old, same old. “Guess so.”

A quiet laugh. “Guess you’re used to it, huh? How’d you find your way, in a place like this?”

Mosh’s pom-pom twitches. “I find the biggest collection of Moogles and go from there, kupo. To get home, that is.”

“Huh.” The buzz from the kid heightens and then smoothes out as they apparently retreat into their mind, deep in thought. 

Causes some interference in tracking home. But not any more than a group of moglets would, and Mosh has plenty of experience with that. Or,  _ had.  _

Avoid more packs of silver-beasts, keep flying. Until the destination comes up clearly through the window, lit up in the way common to nexus worlds. Brighter than most other worlds, bright enough to be almost a sun in this metaphysical travel space. 

Hollow Bastion. What was left of “home.”

“That looks so  _ cool.” _

“Get ready, kupo. Going through.” Mosh presses the button. 

POP. 

_ Barf.  _

“Kid, still got that Bandana, kupo-?”

“Yeah, yeah, got it handled. Sorry.”

From Safe Point to inside the ship to Safe Point again, once the mess is cleaned up. 

It’s dark, almost, when they get there. Oh. Nightfall. With the Moon very bright overhead. Enough moonlight to leave the streets fairly bright, at least to Moogle eyes. Not sure about hu-man ones. Almost like it was before the Fall. 

If one doesn’t look at the castle, the moving shadows, one could trick themselves into thinking that the Fall had never happened. 

Only the foolish would do that. 

The kid looks around, taking in every sight they can. “So, this is ____ ___.”

They freeze. Moving only their hand up to their mouth. Swallows. 

Mosh squints. 

The kid shakes their head. “What was  _ that?!  _ I was only trying to say ____ ___.”

“Are you trying to say the old name?” At the kid’s hesitant nod, Mosh snorts. “Don’t bother. The Dark Fairy stole it, kupo. Only Hollow Bastion, now.”

“Oh. That’s...sad. And weird.” The kid’s face scrunches up. 

Hu-mans don’t know the old name. Not anymore, not after the Dark Fairy. More evidence to add to a growing pile of it, about the kid’s nature, if the kid apparently knows the old name. 

Mosh makes way for the Moogle House, beckoning the kid to follow him. Before, he would have just shooed the kid off in the direction of the closest people house (the Ducklings?), giving a brief warning about the Heartless. 

Now...with other considerations in mind, Mog needs to see the kid. 

“Here, kupo.” The door opens easily, revealing the building to be much bigger on the inside than the outside. Kid’s staring, but Kid seems to be a newbie in everything right now. Not a surprise. 

Synthesized objects hanging from the ceiling, on the shelves. Everywhere. Mog is still up, still fiddling with forge. Late. Even for him. 

Mog looks up. Pom-pom waves. “Mosh. Good sellings?”

“Good sellings, kupo,” Mosh confirms. 

Mosh looks around. Only Mog, no sign of the second Moogle currently residing here. 

“Where’s Elmina, Mog?”

The Elder Moogle taps at his forge. “Where she usually is, kupo. Outside the tunnels to Remembrance.”

Mosh’s pom-pom droops. “Of course.”

The Fall and its aftermath had hit the entire Moogle clan pretty hard, but it would not be inaccurate to say that Elmina had gotten the brunt of it. 

Three lovers, a horde of moglets, and a whole pack of good friends...Elmina lost much. 

Once Hollow Bastion had been cleared of enough Darkness and Heartless, Elmina started leaving her offerings for Remembrance right away. A prayer that her loved ones would be not swept away by the Tide into the unknown, that the Tide would be kind. That Remembrance would be enough, its crystals recalling forevermore. 

Mosh’s not sure if anything is enough, anymore. Not when the Moogle Recipe is lost. 

The kid’s not poking their head into anything. Yet. But the way they keep gravitating towards Mog’s forge means that it’ll happen sooner rather than later. 

Which means about time for Mog to say something about them. Not notice them, Mog’s already done that, but actually talking about their presence here. Bringing up the obvious question. 

“Why is that kid here?” Mog asks. In their native tongue, instead of the hu-man he had been using. “Humans don’t come in.”

Mosh raises his pitch as he replies in the same, even though the kid has no way of understanding them. 

“I don’t think the kid’s a  _ hu-man _ .”

Mog feeds more fuel to the forge, nose pinched in concentration. “What are they, then?”

Not an ounce of doubt in Mosh’s assessment. Not bad. 

“Molded. Like a moglet,” Mosh supplies. 

At that, Mog pauses at his work. Stops to truly  _ look _ at the kid who since moved over to look at the synthesized wares-to-be on the shelves. Sense with his pom-pom what Mosh spent the entire trip over sensing. 

That buzz that Moogles have, that buzz that hu-mans  _ don’t.  _ The buzz of being properly created and formed for a purpose instead of a splat-out mess of genes and magic that hu-mans tended towards. 

“Do you think...that a human found the Lost Recipe?”

Mosh vibrates. “Possible.”

A chance to rebuild their numbers...at last within their grasp. If Mosh can get the kid to tell him more about themselves and who created them. 

Hey, speaking of that kid... 

Switch to hu-man tongue. 

“Hey, don’t touch that, kupo!”

* * *

I jerk my hand back, from the pretty vase I had just been about to examine. 

“I wasn’t!” I call back. 

Looks like the Moogles are done talking. If that’s what that was, the two Moogles just staring at each other while my ears hummed. Like from a dog whistle. 

The Moogle at the strange oven device tilts their head at me. “I am Mog. What is your name?”

“Uh, Ruse.”

“Mosh,” the Moogle from the Underworld supplies. 

It’s somewhat uncomfortable to be standing there, with the pair watching me carefully and saying nothing. Until they do. Say something, I mean. 

“Do you need any help?” Mog inquires, still patting their strange machine. 

I smile. Kind of. It’s hard too, when my face feels stuck in place by...flan goo. Oh right, I knew I was forgetting something! “Um, is there water?” I gesture to my head, my scarf and hair full of flan. Chunky and sticky and I want it out. As soon as possible, please. 

“Of course.” Mog turns to Mosh. “The sink?”

Mosh nods and floats over to the wall, wings fluttering furiously. He taps a small paw against it. Before my eyes, a portion of the wall folds out with a sink. 

Small sink, going up to my knees. Clearly Moogle-sized. I kneel next to it and turn the water on. Call back my Dark Suit, let my real actual clothes be seen, expose my flesh. 

Stick my fingers out, just enough to test the temperature. Warm. Not bad. 

“Any soap?” I ask. 

Mosh floats over to me, and points silently at the blue bar next to where the faucet comes out of the sink. Ah. “Thanks.”

My fingers grab the soap and promptly drop it in the sink, too slippery for me to really hang on to. 

“Argh.” Pick up the soap again. Lose it again. 

You know what, how about I just...rub the soap against my hands over and over again. Building the suds, which I then lift to my face. Rub in, to remove the icky gunk. 

Dig my nails in, until I’m not whether I’m removing skin or flan. Scratch scratch. Feels good, whatever I’m doing. 

Remove my scarf and try cleaning it...uh, doesn’t really work. The red seems stuck like glue in the fabric. Oh no. 

I droop. Namine will be so disappointed by the bandana she chose getting all messy. And I am too, oh no. Maybe I can clean it somewhere, like the Elven Bandana? Vanish it away, leave my patchy head bare. Return to washing. 

Wash the soap suds away, turn the water off...and my hands are red. Both the purple burnt one and the more normal looking hand. 

Stained? Lovely. “Look, I’m a mass murderer now,” I muse, examining the deep deep red all over my fingers and palms, almost as red as the sleeves that threaten to swallow them. 

My face must look much the same way. At least my scars must be less visible, covered in flan stain. 

“It might fade away, by the morning, kupo,” Mog says quietly. “You can stay the night.”

Mosh agrees with him, almost fervently. “Yeah, why don’t you stay a bit longer, kupo?”

Stay a little longer? When Namine’s waiting for me, with Riku and Diz?

I shake my head, flap a red hand. “Nah. It’s already been too long.”

Mosh shakes his head, pom-pom wiggling about. 

“It can be dangerous at night with all of the Heartless, kupo. Be safer here.”

Heartless...there are a lot of those here, now, aren’t there? And what happened to the heckhounds...my body shivers at that unwanted memory. 

Maybe I should accept the offer. 

But wait.  _ Radiant Garden.  _ Words I cannot say and I don’t know why. 

Need somewhere to think about this. A little extra time, if I can. Preferably somewhere with a view. Somewhere that will be out of Heartless reach. If I’m quick...I should be able to avoid any Heartless. Just need some air. Some space. 

The roof should be high enough, shouldn’t it? I step over to the door, open it. Head over to the outer wall of this Moogle Building.

“What are you doing?” Mosh, I think, asks. Floating over behind me. 

“Be back soon!” I call over my shoulder, as I dig my fingers into the mortar of the house, pulling myself up onto the roof. Hm. Hard to grip. I wrap myself in my Dark Suit, calling on it to give me some claws. Something serious to grip with. 

“Kid, wai-!”

Crawl up onto the roof, through the straw stuff. Until I’m on top. Away from the ground where the Heartless must lurk. 

I can’t help but smile. Always wanted to go roof-jumping, in Kingdom Hearts II. Very disappointing that the game wouldn’t allow that. But now I can. In the dark of the night, under that pale moonlight. That moon looks very, very big and close. I look down, away from the celestial body, and focus on digging my claws into the roof. Climbing around instead. Thankfully the moon provides more than enough light for me to see by and pick my handholds. Or is it clawholds?

Make my way across the rooftops. Climb my way onto the top of the icebox looking building, to sit on the edge of it. Swinging my feet, looking over the city from that height. Gives me a spot to think, to examine deeper thoughts of mine. To try to say the words. 

I put my fingers to my throat. Feel it move, feel it work. My tongue moves. Yet nothing comes out.

“____ ___.”

Radiant Garden. 

I can’t say it. 

It’s...it’s...it’s like the photo thing from the start of Kingdom Hearts II all over again. I know the name, know it’s there, but it won’t come out as words. 

“Hollow Bastion.” 

Those words come out just fine. 

What the hell. Once more, I’m made aware of the inherent magical nature of the life I’ve found myself in. A universe where words can be quite literally stolen off your lips. 

How do you lose a name?

“You forget to cherish it,” I say out loud to myself. Giggle at my own stupid joke. But honestly, there might be truth to that. 

Looking over the world-city,  _ Hollow Bastion... _ it’s so empty. Would be very dark, without that pale moon overhead. Once, I bet the entire place was filled to brim, a bustling city full of life. Now...there’s only, what, two districts that are occupied and they’re nowhere close to lacking vacancies, as far as I can tell from the lights in the windows.

There are no flowers I can see. No plants. Very grey, very dark brown. And the fountains I can glimpse, most have no water. Dead. Dry. A desert under the silver moon. 

So much gone, forever. A ghost town. A ghost castle? Probably. Wouldn’t be surprising at least. I don’t think I’ll ever know how much was lost, after Radiant Garden’s fall to Darkness. Night cycle Hollow Bastion  _ is  _ awfully pretty, though. So many stars. I lean back on one hand to stare up at them. 

...How am I going to get myself off this world? Back to Castle Oblivion. My fingers dig into my scar.

Maybe I could try asking another Moogle, to see if I could get to Twilight Town and go from there. Since Twilight Town is apparently a nexus and all. Which is easier to travel to, than other worlds, for some reason?

But in case that doesn’t work...need to keep some other options in mind. Other options I would rather use, honestly. Not fond of puking weird Dark gunk every time I take a trip. 

Hmmmm. Who else is here in ex-Radiant Garden, that I can ask? Silently, I list the names while ticking them off my fingers. Sq- Leon. Yuffie. Aerith. Maybe Cloud? No, not yet. Um. Leon, Yuffie, Aerith...Cid, that’s right! And Merlin. 

Probably more people than that in reality, now that I’m thinking about it. But those are the only  _ named  _ characters I can think of, that might have something. Of the lot...

Fold the rest of my fingers down, so only two are left up. I wiggle them. Stare at them. 

“Cid repairs Gummiships, so he might have something. Merlin does magic as a wise wizard, so he might have something too.”

Two choices. Which one should be my second choice, after Moogles, for tomorrow morning?

Screw up my face, kick my feet back and forth over the city below. 

“I think I’ll try-”

“Riku?” Oh, I  _ know  _ that high-pitched voice!

  
  


Riku wasn’t supposed to be  _ here _ , is Mickey’s first thought when he catches that glimpse of silver hair from behind. Shorter than he remembers, yet the color is still the same. 

A laugh. “It’s Ruse, actually.”

“Ruse?” Mickey pauses. That makes even less sense. Last he knew, the replica couldn’t travel worlds using Darkness like Riku could. “Golly, how are you here?”

“Mm, a mistake.”

The moonlight lights her up enough for Mickey to be able to take in a number of small details. Like her hands, for example. Their coloring. 

Red fingers tap away at the tall box building she rests on. Ruse turns her head just enough to look over at him. Her face is completely red. As red as her hands. 

Her scars still manage to peek through the color. From underneath. Like her dark eyes through silver hair. 

She smiles wryly as she notices him looking at those stains. 

“Soap and water doesn’t get flan stains off. Go figure.”

Fighting flan...there aren’t any flan in Hollow Bastion. Nor any on the nearest worlds. “Sounds like you’ve traveled pretty far, Ruse.”

Ruse holds up her hand, pinching her fingers fairly close together. “Just a little bit.”

Puts her hand back down, placing both hands behind her. Then she tilts her head back as she twists her back enough that her head nearly touches the roof behind her seat. 

“Why are you here?”

“Investigating.” There’s not really words, for the  _ real  _ reason he’s here. Only a feeling in his heart, leading him here. Investigating will have to do. 

Ruse frowns. It looks strange on that upside down face. “In the middle of the night?”

“It’s much quieter that way,” Mickey confirms. 

Ruse tilts her head. “Hm. But still, what about here are you looking into?”

Again, he’s here because of a feeling in his heart. Mickey knows it well enough to name it.  _ Regret.  _

“Worlds fell because of what happened here.”

Hollow Bastion is nothing like the world he once knew. Before, filled to the brim with life. Now...it’s nearly dead. Nearly empty. Many of its inhabitants will never return home. 

A reminder of his mistakes. A reminder to not break the rules. 

Mickey sighs. He shouldn't have told Ansem the Wise all he knew about other worlds. Otherwise...

Maybe this world wouldn’t have fallen, without that knowledge. His carelessness. 

There’s a reason that the term “world order” exists and he stomped all over it in his visits with Ansem. How many worlds fell, because Mickey trusted the wrong person, said too much?

(Too many.)

“The stars are back.” The unexpected words bring him out his thoughts. Ruse, sitting upright once again. Back to him. 

Mickey blinks. “What do ya mean by that?”

Ruse gestures up at the night sky far above their heads. “Well, if the Fall of _-  _ Hollow Bastion  _ took the stars away...they’re back now. Things can be fixed.”

Mickey looks up. The sky is full of many many stars. A lot more than he recalls seeing in a...long time. Years. Each star a world. Many of them worlds that fell and with Sora’s help, came back. 

“That’s...true.”

“Here.” A granola bar is thrust into his field of vision. Ruse shrugs when Mickey looks over at her. “Snacks always make me feel better.”

“Alright.” One gloved hand accepts the snack bar, unwrapping it to take a bite. “Dry.”

“Yeah, they tend towards that a bit.”

She takes out a bar for herself and crunches into it. 

“Thank you,” Mickey eventually says. 

“No problem.”

For a few minutes, Mouse King and replica stare up at the stars. Snacking on granola bars. Until the replica starts moving. Shaking the roof slightly. “Should head back to the Moogles,” she mumbles to herself. 

Ruse frowns. Tilts her head, as she turns around on the roof edge. Makes as if to scoot off of that edge. 

“Uh, little help here?”

* * *

Agrabah has never been one of his favorite places to visit. 

Too much sand, like the beaches of home but without the welcome cooling water. Too bright of a sun overhead. Hotter than a Destiny Islands summer. 

In this coat, Riku feels like he’s going to boil alive. But he can’t take it off. Not when he might need to dodge into a Dark Corridor at any moment. 

At least the sun means no one is out and about the streets closest to the wall and the desert. Leaving Riku to look for Ruse without scaring any of the world’s peoples. 

Difficult. Especially since Riku doesn’t even know if Ruse is here or not. 

The problem, as DiZ explained it, is that Ruse could quite literally be  _ anywhere.  _ Even the Realm of Darkness that Riku and the King barely managed to escape from. 

Realistically, the chances of finding Ruse are close to zilch. 

Also realistically, they still need to  _ try _ because Namine won’t allow any less. Riku  _ needs  _ to find Ruse, so Sora will wake up again. 

Also also, Riku has a pastry called an “orange roll” wrapped up in his pocket and he would like to give it to Ruse before it goes bad or something. He thinks the replica would appreciate the treat. 

Hm. Looking over off of the rooftops, onto the streets...hasn’t seen anything. So far. Maybe he should look over in that alley?

Riku looks over there just in time to catch a person stepping out of a Dark Corridor that vanishes behind them. A person about Sora’s height, in a black coat. As Riku watches, they lower their hood and as a result, lets Riku see his face. 

Riku narrows his eyes. 

A boy with blond spiky hair, that goes up instead off to the side like Sora’s. Not like Sora at all. The face is different too, higher cheekbones and other details too small for RIku to catch at this distance. But there’s  _ something... _

Those blue eyes are the exact same color as Sora’s. Sky blue. 

Should be looking for Ruse. But DiZ wants information on Organization members like the boy too.  _ Riku  _ wants information too. He didn’t think the Organization was the type to recruit anyone who wasn’t a full-grown adult. A Nobody. 

Why is this boy a member?

The boy raises his hand and in it appears with a bright flash...something all too familiar. 

Riku’s breath sticks in his throat at the sight. 

A  _ Keyblade! _

Almost in response...

Heartless! Scattering out of the light noonday shadows, from every direction. Diving and swarming the boy. 

The boy with the Keyblade. 

Who, as easily as breathing, slices through each and every of the monsters. Glowing hearts break up and float towards the sky, nearly invisible in the bright light of Agrabah’s sun.

...That might explain why he’s part of the Organization, if he has a  _ Keyblade.  _

But he has _ Sora’s  _ Keyblade. 

How? What does it mean? 

...At least he can say Ruse probably isn’t here. If she were, she probably would have bounced right up to the boy with the Keyblade and started chattering in his face already. 

Riku can’t help but smile, a little, at the mental picture. 

A frown returns to swallow it, as the boy lifts a hand and a Dark Corridor opens up in front of him. He walks through. 

Gone. 

Riku rises from his squat, on the flat rooftop. Paces back and forth. Not far, three steps forward and then three steps back. 

No Ruse. But now he knows more about the Organization. They have that boy, that boy with Sora’s Keyblade, hunting Heartless. Why? For what reason? What does the Organization get out of protecting the worlds from the Heartless?

...Maybe he should check that it was  _ actually  _ a Keyblade the boy used. 

Riku moves from the roof, to the alleyway the boy had fought the Heartless, in a blink of Darkness. 

His eyes search every corner, very carefully. Nothing. Clean. Not a Dark puddle anywhere, a result of killing Heartless without a Keyblade. Paired with the faded hearts that disappeared...it must have been a Keyblade. No synthesis materials either. 

Carefully, Riku sniffs the air. Nothing. Nothing but dust and...and...some kind of spice?

Familiar...but from where? Definitely not DiZ’s salt and oranges, or the fruity-cinnamony scent that follows Ruse everywhere. Something else entirely...but still familiar. 

He’ll have to figure it out later. 

“I should be heading back now,” he says out loud. Almost with a sigh. 

That boy...he’s important. Important enough that Riku should find him again. 

Riku can feel it in his chest. In his heart. 

...There’s also something warm in his pocket. Slightly grimacing, Riku dips his hand in and-

“Oh  _ crap _ . It melted.”

A ooze of orange roll thing, icing and more, sticky all over his gloved hands and pocket and coat...man. He should have known better. 

Now, how is he going to get unstuck...?

“Hope Ruse’s fine with no orange roll.”


	20. Unavoidable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our Hero says farewell, hello, and attempts to run. But you can't escape the future ahead, nor the past behind. 
> 
> (I'm afraid...that when you lift my mask, you'll cut yourself on the shards of me. The shards that make up my smile.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya everyone!  
> JCMorrigan at it again, with an aesthetic for Ruse at https://jcmorrigan.tumblr.com/post/613984715968593920/an-aesthetic-for-ruse-the-pov-character-of-tell.  
> Also, I have a tumblr now, @beastenraged (hopefully that should work.) I'll reblog any art for fic there and put my own thoughts/art on there as well under the tag "tell me verse." Feel free to check it out!  
> As always, thank you for the comments, kudos, and follows! I wish you well in these times!

I wake up in my blanket nest with a pounding headache. 

Thanks to my ongoing problem, of sleeping, and still feeling utterly exhausted when I wake up. A problem I had plenty of times Before, but only as an adult. Why am I having it now, in a much younger body? I’m not exactly sure what’s wrong, but I have a gut feeling that something’s wrong. Hope DiZ can figure it out for me, when I get back to Castle Oblivion. 

I look at my hands, my hands that are not my hands yet _are_ my hands. As red as they were when I fell asleep last night. If there is anything wrong...is there any way to fix it? I am first of a kind, after all. A prototype. 

Prototypes are meant to go wrong, to know how to fix the next generation. Prototypes don’t get fixed. Especially prototypes that murder their own makers. 

I breathe. Push my hair back, behind my ears. The longer bits, at least. 

Take this one day at a time. That’s all _I_ can do. 

I sit up, from my little blanket nest. Everyone else appears to be up already. Pleasantly surprising to see Mickey talking to Mog (if that is still the Moogle closest to the weird magical microwave), instead of having left already. 

There’s a third Moogle in the house now. Huh. Next to Mosh. 

“Hi.” I wave at the newcomer. 

The newcomer waves back. “Hello, I’m Elmina!” They introduce themselves with a low level of excitement, almost hopping in the air as they draw closer to me. “You are Ruse, right?”

I nod. “Yep! Nice to meet you, Elmina.”

“Oh, you’re awake, Ruse!” Mickey turns towards me. Smiling. 

I open my mouth, to ask him why he’s still here. Only to be interrupted. 

“Now the young one Ruse is up, we should break fast together,” Mog states, floating over to a table that’s been set up in the middle of the room. A plate full of food for each of us, all five. 

The plates are more like bowls, with all of the food mixed in together. Rice, some yellow fruit, and something blue...take a closer look, there. 

Huh...blue rocks? In my bowl and the Moogles’ bowls. But not in Mickey’s, I can’t help but notice. 

“Ooh, what are these?” I hold up one of the dark blue crystal chunks. 

“Power Shards,” Mog supplies the answer easily enough. He reaches out to poke at it in my hand. “Eat them to get strong, kupo.”

 _Eat_ them? I stare at the Moogle. And then at the Power Shard. It’s...edible? Ha, I knew Synthesis Materials were edible! Take that, Riku!

Mickey speaks up before I can manage any other response than staring. “Mx Moogle, humans and Disnians can’t eat Synthesis Materials.”

All three Moogles move their heads back and forth, pom-poms bobbing. 

“They can’t, kupo? No wonder they’re so...” Mosh’s wings flutter harder than before. 

“Of course they can’t eat them, kupo, their teeth would break,” Elmina speaks knowledgeably. “They have to suck on them instead, kupo.”

I ignore the humming conversation between Mickey and the Moogles as Mickey once again tries to correct them, electing to instead stare at the Power Shard in my hand. 

Suck on them, hm? I didn’t die from that electric rock...and I _do_ wonder what a Power Shard must taste like, in comparison to that. 

_Do not eat elemental material. Please._

I stick the Power Shard in my mouth. 

Rub it around with my tongue. Hmm, tastes like...not like blue raspberry, which my brain had been half-expecting. Due to coloring. 

No, tastes like...huh. Almost flavorless, but broccoli. Why broccoli, brain? Doesn’t buzz like lightning either, sits there like a rock in my mouth. Sturdy. 

...I don’t think I should swallow it. So I spit out onto my plate instead. 

The talking has stopped. They’re all staring at me now. 

Elmina’s wings quiver. “What do you think, kupo?”

With the heavy weight of the attention the Moogles are all paying to me, I think the answer to that question is probably pretty important. 

“I’m not sure if I get anything out of that.” Pause, and then clarify, “Nutrition-wise.”

Hey, why is Mickey shaking his head at me? I didn’t get sick and that’s what matters. More information for synthesis material taste-testing. Hey, I can actually start making a chart now! Whoo! Actual _science._

“Ruse, maybe you should...not eat that.”

I shrug. “Didn’t. But okay.” Reach over for the...very small spork and start digging into the rest of the meal. The yellow fruit mushes together quite nicely with rice, let’s take a taste of that. Hmm. Sweet taste, much like the apricot things I had with Naminé a while ago. Not exactly the same, but similar. My headache lessens with each bite. Just a hunger headache, then? 

Everyone else appears to be eating now, too. The Moogles are popping the Shards in like candy, just chowing down. I point to the yellow fruit. 

“What are these?” 

“Persimmons,” Elmina provides. 

Huh. That’s a real fruit? Or something made up like paopu? Who cares, tastes pretty good. Finish pretty quickly, I’ve always been a fast eater. Leave the Shards be, of course. I can’t really eat those after all...

When Mickey finishes his own meal, he steps away from the table in order to bow to the Moogles. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“You’re very welcome, Your Majesty,” Mog says formally. 

Then Mickey turns to me. His eyes are bright. 

“I’ll take you back to Castle Oblivion. If you’d like?” Mickey offers. Oh, a way back? That’s pretty awesome, since I’ve been looking for that this entire time. 

I grin. “Sure! But...how?”

Does he have a Gummiship or something? How is this going to work?

Mickey nods to the Moogles, before turning to open the door to the house. I follow him out, waving to the Moogles as I leave.

“You’re welcome to come back anytime!”

“We’d love to see you soon!”

Bouncing about the air with their wings humming through the air. 

Very nice of them. 

I smile and call back, “Love to see you guys later, too! Oh, and thanks for the food!”

Turn to Mickey. Whose waiting for me, under the slowly rising morning sun. Walk up to him and ask, “Okay, what do we do now?”

He puts his forearm in my hand, grasping around my own arm with his hand. 

“Don’t let go.” Mickey orders, quiet and serious. Pulls out a strange glowing rock. It’s star-shaped and blue, a yellow lighting bolt coming out of it. 

Ooh, is that the _Star Shard?_ I wonder how it w-

_Everything_ is light. Bright enough to burn my eyes. Everything is tight, like I’m being squeezed through a straw. Squeezed through a straw, as I’m being catapulted at the heavens. 

Is this what a spitball feels like, as the spitball itself?

If so... _craaazzzy._

The world eventually washes away in a wall of white, stopping its wild movement right in its tracks. Castle Oblivion, once more. 

“Whoa.” I let go of Mickey’s arm and take a step away from him. Nearly fall over, my head spinning and spinning. “Agh!”

Oooh, a bit much there...how can Mickey use that thing over and over again? He doesn’t even look dizzy, the cheater. I might puk- swallow it. Swallow the bile threatening to burst out of me. Focus. Swallow. Gross. 

“Your Majesty!” Ah, I know that voice. That’s Riku. Who...isn’t wearing his black coat for some reason. Huh. “And... _Ruse?!”_

“I found her at Hollow Bastion!” The Mouse King supplies the answer to the clearly unasked question cheerfully. 

“There, of all places?” Ah, and that’s DiZ. But I have only eyes for one person. One person who attracts all attention as she bursts into the room, glowing, glowing. _Burning_ ever so brightly. 

“Ruse!” Naminé’s rushing towards me, as bright as a star. Glowing enough to hurt my eyes a little, leaving heavy heavy imprints as she moves. 

I can’t help but gasp as she wraps her arm around my middle. She’s not cold, not like she normally is. Instead she’s almost burning me, as she hugs me with all of her strength and body. 

“Naminé!” 

Wrap my arms back around her. Can’t resist the urge, to pick her up, and twirl. Since I have the strength to, now. The world is just two of us, as I bury my head in her neck. Take in the delicate scent of peaches. 

Feels the warmth of her heart next to mine once more

(How could I forget?)

I’m back, I’m...

_Home._

* * *

DiZ hadn't expected to see the replica again. Not in this life. 

Not that he thought her dead, no. It was merely far more likely that she would sink into the depths of the Dark and not find her way out until everyone in Castle Oblivion (and the Organization) were long dead. 

But then, he himself had been able to tear his path free of the Dark and he hadn’t had half of the advantages one of Vexen’s creations surely carried. Perhaps, DiZ shouldn’t be surprised, then. 

But His Majesty being involved...a true surprise right there. 

“Your Majesty, you have returned. What have you found out?”

“I went to Hollow Bastion.” DiZ stills at that. 

“There is nothing for you there,” he snaps out.

“Not as little as you might think,” is the Mouse King’s reply. Calm. Quiet. 

“There is nothing left there after the Fall.” DiZ makes to turn on his heel. There is no need for this conversation. Not when the king of that world is dead and what remains is the hungry ghost of his revenge. 

Mickey looks up, meeting DiZ straight in the eyes before he manages to turn towards his workplace once more. 

“...Be careful.” A warning or a request? Perhaps, it is both. 

“Care for yourself more.”

Enough of this. He...this conversation is not for him. It’s for a dead man. Not for him. 

The Mouse King doesn’t know. He can’t. If he did, he would have said something. 

...Why does his chest ache at the thought of that ongoing ignorance?

No reason. It does not matter. It cannot. 

“Riku! How could you?”

At the loud cry, DiZ looks over. 

The replica stomps her foot. Throws up her hands. “You can’t just tell someone you had a tasty treat and not give it to them!”

“Sorry?” Riku looks confused. “I thought you would want to know.”

“Riiikkkuuuu.” The replica waves her hands about. “Not like that!”

“Enough of this,” DiZ says calmly. 

“Oh?” The replica looks up at him. “Do you need another examination?”

“That would be best,” he allows, “It has been a few days since we’ve last seen each other.”

The replica tilts her head. “Really? How long?”

Riku answers this one. “Four days.”

“ _What?_ That’s crazy!”

“That is the time that has passed. Come now.” 

The replica pauses. “Naminé?” 

The Nobody nods. “Go. I’ll see you later.” A small..smile?

The replica mutters to herself, but she follows nonetheless. To the lab where DiZ held her examination last time. She boosts herself up, to sit on the table. Waits impatiently, swinging her legs wildly back and forth. 

“So, what’s it this time?”

DiZ shows her the needle. “More blood.”

The replica sighs as loud as thunder. “ _Fine.”_ Holds up her not scarred arm. DiZ raises an unseen eyebrow.

“You still have your Dark Suit on.”

“Oh, right.” She calls it back, and rolls up the red sleeve that lies underneath. DiZ nods his thanks and continues his work. 

He collects more blood, but there is something else to consider here. 

The replica is red. Fairly red. Stained as red as blood. 

“Clean yourself off,” he requests, passing the replica a pack of alcoholic wipes. 

“I tried!” She throws up her hands. “Didn’t work.”

“Try again.”

She sticks her tongue out at him. Like a child. The child she is. With how much she looks like Riku, with how those scars stretch her face, it can be too easy to forget that the replica has only existed for a month and a half, chronologically speaking. 

Barely any time whatsoever. 

Her red hands rip the pack open and she swipes at her skin. Enough to cause the wipes to turn pink. Not enough to expose her skin underneath the stain. 

DiZ cannot manage to hold back the sigh building up in his lungs. He moves closer. Holds out a gloved hand. “Give me the wipes.”

The replica eyes him suspiciously. “...Why?”

(“If you are to get the boy _ice cream_ , clean him up before he touches any of our work!”)

“My reasoning doesn’t matter.” He plucks the wipes from her hands. Rubs them against her hands. 

The replica freezes in response. Allowing him to get every bit of red off those hands, scarred and not. “Now, scrub that hard,” DiZ instructs her, handing the fairly pink wipes back to her. 

“...Right. _Right_.” The replica watches him carefully. As carefully as she can when she’s swiping wipes all over her face. 

DiZ sighs and returns to his work. More analysis, more data to go through. Perhaps a little of it will help him in his vengeance. 

He can hope.

“...How close are you to finishing?” The replica asks. Swinging her feet, insistently looking over at the doorway. 

DiZ’s eyes move, enough to see what she looks at. 

Naminé. Lingering and watching. Instead of getting back to her memory-work. 

The replica interrupts before he can say something about that. 

“Have you checked Naminé out?”

A surprising question, but one that really shouldn’t be, considering how closely tied Naminé and the replica are to each other. 

Naminé smiles weakly. “You don’t have to...”

The replica waves her over with a hand. “C’mon. Just to check. Maybe we can see how similar replicas and Nobodies are to each other.”

That is...not a bad idea. 

“I can spare time for a quick examination.”

The replica smiles and waves. “Come over here, Naminé!”

A process, to get the Nobody onto the table. The replica manages it in the end, without any assistance needed. 

Getting blood from her is easy enough, with the replica comforting Naminé through the process. Clinically taking her pulse and measuring her breathing is even easier. 

More data, to feed to his ideas, his plotting.

What does it all mean, in the end?

The replica’s biology, from what he can interpret through Vexen’s extensive notes on the subject, appears to be a mixture of a Nobody’s and something else. Whatever Vexen had been fiddling with, to make replicas in the first place. 

Not that DiZ has any other details beyond these simple notes, thanks to losing all of the records that Ie- _Zexion_ destroyed when the King and Riku went looking for them. 

Naminé seems well enough, not very much Darkness for a Nobody, oddly enough. Her heart rate slow, blood thick and dark, breathes even...everything very normal for a Nobody. Other than her low Darkness levels. As far as he can tell. But the replica...

DiZ frowns, scrolling through the data. 

The replica...produces some Darkness but not enough to account for the levels he’s measured. Production levels are about average, for the average individual. No, the replica must be constantly drawing Darkness from her surroundings. A measure which can vary depending on the surroundings in question. 

A delicate balance to keep. Too little Darkness from the outside and the replica will lose power and strength to function. Too much Darkness of the same source and the replica will quite probably explode. Or implode, turning into a particularly nasty Emblem Heartless.

(Like the results of countless, _terrible_ experiments...)

(He should have _never_ approved.) 

His fingers twitch and curl up. 

At least, that is the conclusion the available data draws. 

A heart existing without being lost to the Dark. No wonder Vexen sought Riku’s data. Recreating those _abominations..._

DiZ’s fingers peck the keyboard harder than necessary. 

“Trying to make a heart function in Darkness, were we?” He muses out loud. 

“Hm, what’s that? Is Naminé okay?” He still has an audience. A very quiet audience, but one that’s still present. Waiting. 

“She is fine, as far as I can tell. As are you.”

The replica claps her hands. “Great! So...anything new?”

DiZ considers the facts on-screen. There’s...something missing. A conclusion he has yet to come to. Once more results come in...

The blood sugar levels...hm. 

“Not at the moment.”

“We good to go then?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent!” Another hand clap, and a hand going up to scratch at those scars. 

DiZ can barely keep from reaching out for that hand. “Do not scratch,” he grits out.

“Oh, right!”

He cannot handle this any longer. “Go.”

“Right again!”

The replica slides off the table and pulls Naminé along after her. They’re right out through the door when DiZ remembers. 

“Naminé,” DiZ says loudly. Loud enough to get the Nobody pause to look back at him. “Remember our deal.”

Blue eyes widen as she quickly nods. “Of course.”

“Good.”

With that, he returns to his work. Now, the blood sugar, why are the blood sugar numbers important?

(Fool.)

(Nothing but distractions from his failure.) 

* * *

Ruse is back. Ruse is _back._

Her chest hums with their newly reignited connection. She’s alive and Naminé can feel it! Not lost, not gone. Warm. _Happy._

The best feeling of all, an echo Naminé can’t help but grab onto with all of her strength. 

(One day, maybe she’ll have a heart of her own.)

(One day, she _really_ knows what Happy feels like.)

“Hey, what was that about? What deal?” Dark eyes widen as Ruse lowers her voice. “Did you... _stick it to the man?”_

Naminé blinks. “No. It’s...it doesn’t matter.”

Ruse puts her hands on her hips. “Are you sure?”

“You’re back. So everything's going to be fine.” It has to be. What would be the point then?

Ruse’s heart feels unhappy about Naminé’s silence, it seems, but she too says nothing. 

As for the deal...that deal she made, Sora’s memories for Ruse, Naminé needs to keep it. Otherwise, why did she make that ultimatum?

She needs to go back to the room with Sora’s pod. Ruse follows close behind as she quickens her step. 

“Oh, heya Sora.”

Naminé considers telling Ruse that Sora can’t hear her. But she probably already knows that. It doesn’t matter. Not really. 

Naminé bites her lip. They need to talk. Waiting...might not be the best option. Not after what happened four days ago. 

She’ll have to be careful. Ruse ran, the last time she tried. But she’ll try again. 

Grabbing onto all of her willpower, Naminé opens her mouth to speak. 

“Ruse.” Indigo eyes snap to Naminé’s face. Pleased she’s gotten her attention, Naminé continues. “Don’t run.”

“I’m not running,” is Ruse’s immediate answer. 

“Then don’t leave. Please.”

Ruse shifts her weight uneasily, from foot to foot. Her face squishes up in that same unease, before she nods. Once. Short. 

“Okay. I won’t.”

She allows Naminé to grab her hand, to pull her down next to Naminé as the Nobody sits down on the ground. But her fingers tap against the floor, as Ruse shifts from side to side. 

Naminé places her hands on her thighs, leaning towards Ruse. 

“Now...about the future.” Ruse’s shoulders instantly hunch up in response. At the sight, Naminé feels a burn in her chest. _Fear._ Ruse’s fear. 

It almost makes her change the subject, back away. 

But Naminé has to know. Waiting...she can’t. Not any longer. Not when Ruse might disappear again, at any time. Leaving her behind. 

“You said that I would have erased your memory, in that future.” Naminé swallows but forces herself to continue. “We’re free of the Organization, and I’m fixing Sora’s memories. What are you so afraid of, now?”

What awaits them? What weighs on Ruse’s heart, more and more everyday? That source of worry?

“It doesn’t matter, Naminé.” Ruse tries on a weak smile. “There’s nothing we can do about it, just the two of us.”

“Then don’t. I could ask Riku, or you could ask Mickey. We could wait for _Sora_.” If there’s anything Naminé’s learned from Sora’s memories, it’s the power of friendship. Having more than one person available to fix different problems, more than one set of hands. 

Ruse laughs. A choking, awful sound, that leaves Naminé cringing. “No. None of them will be able to help. They’re, or rather, _Sora’s_ the problem. You see.”

“I don’t.” Naminé bites her lip. How can Sora be the problem? He _fixes_ problems. 

“It’s just a choice...” Ruse’s hands spasm, on the floor. “A choice that’s not mine to make. But I know how it’ll end. Or I _did._ ”

One hand goes up, nails digging into purple skin. Tearing, ripping. Or about to. 

“Now...who knows? I’m afraid I’ll ruin it all, but what if it’s already ruined? Should I change it?”

Her hands are shaking. 

Naminé catches those hands, pulls them away into her lap. “Tell me. Ruse, please, tell me.” She hesitates, but the rest must be said. “Let me help you.”

Ruse stands up immediately. Pulling her hands free. There are tears in her eyes. “I can’t. I’m sorry, I _can’t_.”

“Ruse, please-” 

The replica _runs_. Full speed, through the open doorway into the hall. 

Behind her, Naminé presses her hands to her chest. Cold with Ruse’s _panic._

“Oh no.”

* * *

I run through these white halls. Halls that all look like each other, all the same. My thoughts run too, all the same way. 

I can’t tell her. I can’t tell her that what happens next is, in part, her decision to make. 

She cried so many tears, when I told her that in another time, another place, she would have erased the memory of the person I could have been. 

Telling her that she would pick the knowing destruction of another girl, another replica, for Sora...my heart burns. That might destroy her. 

Especially with how she has responded to me, cared so much about _me_ of all people. Shouldn’t she care about Sora more? Sora offered her friendship when he woke up?

Would she refuse to fix Sora, for someone she might look at and think of me? Would she refuse for me? A nobody that should be dead?

Is there doom on the horizon, for the worlds?

I...I could advise her, tell her to have Xion be consumed and then Roxas after that. But...but I _couldn’t bear it._

What if making that choice destroys Naminé, makes her think she’s less than nothing?

Especially, while telling Roxas all the reasons he should give up, she thinks she should give up too?

Makes her choose to return to Kairi?

That would...would...I don’t know what I would do. 

I’m not strong, not like Riku, not like Naminé. I could never sacrifice two whose stories and journeys I followed so deeply, whose fears and hopes I could feel burning in me as I watched pixels on a DS screen. 

They _are real._ Not pieces on a gameboard to be discarded as one wills. Just because they’ll return from their deaths doesn’t mean that death did not occur in the first place. 

...It didn’t change that for me, when I woke up in this body. 

I fall to my knees, palms on the floor. My legs burn, I realize faintly. Burn and burn, like Naminé’s concern in my chest. A concern that I don’t deserve, running like this. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I gasp, to the useless heavens. My lungs work desperately, but with my sobs, it never feels like enough air. 

I’m so _useless._ Will the Guide follow through on our deal? Or will it be for nothing?

Stop thinking, stop thinking. Stop. Thinking. 

(Please.)

The floor is so very cold and from my hands, spreads ice. As quick as my breaths, it spirals out very chunky and spiky. Easy to break a chunk off should I so choose. 

_Break off some ice._

An order, that strange voice. I can’t stop crying, my body keeps shaking, my breaths falter. But my shivering hands still manage to follow it. 

_Put it in your mouth. Suck on it._

What?

But I do as he says, plopping the ice cube chunk in my mouth. For lack of anything else to do with it, really. Why not suck on it?

I lean against the wall, sucking on the ice. My breathing slows. Manageable once more. 

Enough that I can actually talk again. Sorta. 

“Are you real? Not just the stress in my brain talking?” I say, words muffled through the chunk of ice in my mouth. 

_If I were the stress in your brain, would I not say yes anyway?_

“Hm. Good point.”

_Of course it is. I made it._

My eyebrows scrunch up as I suck more insistently on my ice chunk. Seems awfully arrogant for my own brain. So maybe...it’s not? Not my own brain, I mean. 

Sora has had Ventus in his heart for the majority of his life after all. Huh, that reminds me. Does he still have Ven’s heart? You would think Guide would have said something if that were the case...maybe I’ll ask, our next meeting. 

“Who are you?”

The voice sputters. _Don’t you recognize my voice?_

I grin, teeth crunching down. Small enough bites for me to swallow the ice. “Yeah, yeah. Just kidding. You’re... _Vexen._ ”

Vexen. In my head. I’ve already run into one ghost. What’s another? But this one...I swallow. The truth is...

My hands tighten into fists. “I killed you.”

_Number VIII did, technically._

“Don’t _technical_ me,” I snarl, “You were already dying, weren’t you? Because of me?”

Because I lost control. 

.... _yes. I was._

Straightforward. Merciless. There is no hiding from that truth. Good people don’t kill people when they lose control. Like I did. 

He might come back. He might not, since the Nobody appears to be in my head. 

Don’t change that I _killed_ him. Might kill again. 

Ergh. 

“How do I talk to you again?” I ask the ghost directly.

A space in my head. I’ve surprised him, for some reason. 

... _drawing close to my element of ice will work. As will whenever you hold my shield._

Hmm. Maybe I should avoid doing either of those. Well, the shield avoiding won’t quite work, since that’s my only weapon as of now. Avoiding ice will be easier, nevermind how useful it is. 

Hate the thought of those neon green eyes glowing at me in the dark, or those grasping hands that touched me like they owned me. 

But I’ve made enough choices using sentiment, with _feelings._ Vexen will know a lot, having been part of the Organization. Having made the replicas. I should take advantage of that, especially since he hasn’t appeared to have lied to me so far. 

That information’ll help everyone else. I can deal with those unpleasant memories for that. They deserve that help. 

“Where’s your heart?”

A hiss. _Does it look like I would know that, from in here?_

Can’t help but put my hands up defensively, though I’m pretty sure he can’t see the gesture. 

“Hey, just checking.”

_Humph. I suppose that’s acceptable, then._

Like I _asked_ for him to be hiding out in my brain. Jerk. I huff a breath out from my nose, putting even more of my weight against the wall. Roll my shoulders. 

Now that I’ve stopped crying, calmed down a bit...exhaustion hits me like a train. Hard and fast. The weight of the last four(?) days is heavy on me. Tugging at my eyelids. 

I close them. Breath easy. As easy I can manage, at least. 

I pull out...my bandana. The purple one with silver stars. Hold it in my hands, rubbing at the stains. Maybe...maybe this can be fixed. 

Maybe _I_ can be fixed. 

I...don’t know. 

And eventually, painfully, I fall asleep.

* * *

Something is wrong. The halls smell strongly of Ruse’s typical cinnamon and fruit. Like she’s been using Darkness again. And lots of it. 

Where’s Naminé?

She must be...Riku moves faster, until he’s almost running. To Sora’s room. 

Right outside...he stops. 

Soft, quiet, Riku can barely hear it. The sound is unmistakably the sound of someone crying. From inside the room. 

Slowly, he pushes the door open. There’s only Naminé in there. Well, other than Sora’s pod. Riku steps in, quietly and carefully. 

He swallows. Asks. 

“What’s wrong?” He’s not the right person for this, Riku knows. For crying girls, that’s Kairi. Or Sora. Not him. 

But there’s only him. He’ll do his best. He sits down next, to Naminé. 

Naminé, huddled up. Her head buried in her legs, arms hugging them up to her chest. “I _hurt_ Ruse. She’s _crying,_ because of me.”

“What happened?” He can’t really picture Ruse crying. The idea is even more alien than that of Sora crying. (Only because he’s seen Sora cry before.)

There are no tears. Yet somehow Naminé still cries. Sniffles before she stops, to talk to him. “I...I brought up something that scared her. I should have been more patient! But...”

But.

What did Naminé bring up that Ruse would...be _scared_ of? She doesn’t have any reason to be afraid now, right?

There is that thing...with the memories. And Sora. The choice that Naminé made. Would that hurt her? Riku doesn’t know. So he’ll ask. After sitting down on the floor next to Naminé. 

“Did you tell Ruse that you...” Riku shrugs, makes a gesture with his hands. “You know. About the memories.” 

Tell her that you chose her over Sora’s memories?

Naminé shakes her head, surprisingly. “No. I couldn’t. Could you tell Sora about what you’re doing now for him?”

Riku considers. ...No. He couldn't. Some sacrifices and choices he’s made, would make, are better not talked about. Especially with the receiver of those choices. 

Would he leave Ruse behind, for Sora?

...Maybe. 

Maybe Naminé and himself are more alike than he first thought. Her choice, to say nothing, seems less surprising in light of that. 

“I’m sorry.” He wants Sora back, of course, but...he’s trying. Trying to think about what else is going in the world, to understand why Naminé would choose Ruse over Sora. There’s an example Sora set, and Riku wants to live up to at least half of that. 

But he won’t, he knows that much. He’ll put Sora first, make up for what he’s done. 

Riku _has to._

(Even if that means not talking to Kairi.)

“I’m sorry too. About Sora.” Naminé looks away. Her sketchbook is on the floor next to her. Somehow. “I’ll fix him. I’m going to, now.”

Riku smiles. A little. “That’s...thanks. Thanks, Naminé.”

Naminé wraps her fingers around each other. “It’s the least I can do.”

They sit there, the two. Thinking and wondering.

_What will happen now?_


	21. Unrest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a slight role reversal, a lot of set up, and our Hero should probably not talk about "being helpful" to people with immense guilt complexes. Also, fighting for profit???

“This isn’t really getting me anywhere...” I bite my lip, flipping through the magic book in my hands. The information in it seems useful, especially with the extra notes, but not useful to  _ me.  _ Since I can’t cast  _ any  _ spell. Not even a healing one. 

Not even after a couple of days spent doing so, or Naminé trying to walk me through it whenever she wasn’t drawing. Even with her showing me that she can apparently cast  _ every kind of magic  _ in the book. Including Gravity! 

So pretty, the sparkling purply-back circular void dancing above her fingertips...

I pout a little at the thought. That’s always been my favorite spell.  _ Always.  _

“I wonder why you can’t use magic?” Naminé ponders out loud, doodling some snowflakes. “Other than ice?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it has to do with a  _ certain someone?”  _ I raise my voice on the last two words. Pointedly. 

...

Hm. Nothing? Jerk. 

“Who are you talking to?” Riku asks, from behind me.

I jerk, nearly flipping the book out of my lap in the process. “Don’t scare me like that!” Turn to glare at him. 

He smirks at me. “You’re just not paying attention.”

“Brat,” I huff, snapping the magic book shut. Stick my tongue out. “You’re the worst.”

Riku tilts his head. “I guess that means you don’t want these.” In his right hand appears a small paper bag. His other hand reaches into it and pulls out a square looking pastry with some kind of icing or something drizzled on it. 

Riku frowns slightly at it. “The baker called these ‘soap-piyas? She said they were on special...”

Ah! They have sopapillas in Twilight Town?  _ Awesome!  _

“Oh  _ sweet _ ! Treats forever!” My hands reach out in excitement, fingers wiggling all crazy. “Sopapillas are the  _ best!  _ Thanks a ton, you’re the best!”

Riku hands the bag over to me and steps over to give another one to Naminé. Who pulls out a sopapilla too, I think. Too focused on my own treats to really pay attention. Have I always been this hungry, mouth watering like crazy? Stuff with lots of sugar makes the headaches fade away, leaves me feeling  _ much  _ better. 

Mmmm, those have always been one of my favorite desserts. These ones seem to taste even better than I remember, all drizzled with some... _ honey _ . Feels  _ good.  _

Only one sopapilla left once I’m finished, licking my lips. Save for later? I nod to myself. Save for later. Poof goes the treat bag. 

So many treats. I guess my complaints about the orange roll thing got through, Riku’s been pretty good at bringing me and Naminé snacks from the bakery. I only miss being able to look at the treats myself, chat a bit with the baker. Maybe catch a glimpse of the Twilight Trio (the human one, not the Nobody-replica one). 

“You know, I could pick something out at Twilight Town myself next time?” My fingers tap against the floor as I smile at Riku. 

Riku shakes his head. 

A silent denial of my request to go to that world, to leave Castle Oblivion, one that’s been repeatedly denied to me for some reason. 

Well, I do know why. I won’t play dumb on this. I did disappear for four days into the void, after all. Not sure why DiZ cares so much about that, though. Thought the guy would be fine with me disappearing forever, not annoying him or ruining his revenge plans. 

Riku’s reasoning is easier to guess. He cares too much. Like me. Probably got his guilt complex kicking in too. 

What a pain. Especially since I’m  _ pretty  _ sure I got my Dark Corridor problem figured out. 

Just need to try it out. 

Maybe it’s time for me to play some of the cards up my sleeve. Metaphorical cards. I’m no good at actual poker. Clue instead, maybe? (Demyx. In the Underworld. With the...sitar?)

“Where’s DiZ?” Put my hands on my hips. 

Riku looks wary. “I don’t think he’s going to change his mind.”

Grin, poke a thumb at my chest. “Leave that to me!”

“...Do you have to leave?” Naminé hunches over her sketchbook when I glance over at her. Her fear of abandonment eats away at my heart, cold as the loss of ice.

My fingers rub along the scars on my neck. “Uh.”

What's worse is that Naminé’s fear is actually pretty valid when it comes to this. I did get myself sucked into the Dark for a while and she didn’t know where I was.  _ Terrifying.  _ She wouldn’t want me to vanish again. 

But...

I really can’t stay here anymore. Not like this. 

There’s a word chewing away at my brain for the feeling:  _ useless.  _

I’ve never liked sitting around. Even in times I was getting paid for sitting around. Something  _ itches  _ at me, when I do nothing. I’ve never been good at doing nothing. That’s why I have to get out of here. Haven’t done so much  _ nothing  _ in a long time, like I’ve been doing here. 

I don’t want to hurt Naminé but I also don’t want my brain to ooze out of my ears from lack of work. My fingers tap against my chin. 

“Um. Do you want to come with me?” I offer. “We could try for Destiny Islands like you want to.” Hm, wonder how I could find my place here...if my theory is right, on how I can possibly travel, I don’t think I can do Destiny Islands yet. But Naminé...she deserves better than this plain white world of blank nothing boringness. 

Naminé’s face brightens (literally, again) while Riku’s head right away swivels towards me, eyes wide and...horrified? Huh?

But Naminé then shakes her head. “I can’t. Not yet.”

“But after Sora?” I wave to the pod in the room. “So, what can we do then?” So I can leave, are the words I  _ really  _ want to say. 

“You don’t have to leave?” Naminé asks hopefully. But not seriously, not like she thinks it matters. 

Agh. 

I  _ hate  _ this. Fists by my side. 

“I have to help. Like you’re helping with Sora, I have to help too,” I explain. 

Naminé nods at that. The sadness in my heart lightens to something like understanding. Still sad but...

Like the look in Riku’s eyes, too. 

“Um, I’ll go talk to DiZ now?” Jerk a thumb at the door, start walking backwards. Just barely get through the door instead of hitting the wall that way. 

Once I’m out of sight of both Riku and Naminé, I turn and run. 

Run run run. 

(Escape the grieving understanding in my heart.)

Run straight to where DiZ always is. Forever always. 

Right when I see DiZ, at his computer like always, there’s a hiss in my brain like a broken kettle. Loud and obnoxious. 

Seriously, dude? Seriously?

I wish Vexen had a face I could punch. That might make me feel better. 

“Um, so, uh.” I nudge my foot against the ground, as DiZ’s orange eyes look at me. 

“What is it?” Stern, no nonsense. Don’t think he would appreciate any of my jokes right about now. 

“Can I go off-world?” I blurt out. 

DiZ’s chair squeaks against the floor as he fully turns towards me. “Last time you went off-world, you nearly vanished into the Darkness. Stalling our efforts.”

Can’t help but frown at that. Stalling their efforts? How could I do that? Thought it would have actually sped up, with me not being around to take up Riku’s time. There must be something I’m missing here...

“I could help?” I offer. 

“Help how?” DiZ’s eyes narrow at me. “You’ve done enough.”

Hm. Guess I’ll try another one of my cards. Digging for a crack. Like I’ve always done. 

“Look, I can go off my own now. I think I’ve figured it out.” I spread my arms. “Either you help me out or I possibly vanish again?”

DiZ jerks at that. A serious threat, huh? Gotta keep that in mind for later. 

“So? What will it be?”

“...You will test your new found ability with Riku and if you fail, no more.”

I nod and grin. “Of course. If I can’t ‘port by myself, I’ll never ask to learn it again. Promise.”

More motivation not to fail, then. I fail...well, Naminé will be happy, at least. A pain in my chest. I don’t know if it’s from me, or from her. Whatever it is...I have to keep moving. No stopping now. 

“Never?” DiZ’s fingers steeple as he watches me carefully. 

“I promise.” Hold out my pinky. “Want a pinky promise?”

“No.”

I shrug. Withdraw my pinky. “All right then.”

Give a wave and walk off. And if I leave one last sopapilla next to the computer monitor...well, that’s my business, isn’t it?

The path is much longer, back to where Naminé and Riku still are. Probably. They’re still there, when I get back. So I guess I was right after all? Walk up to Riku, lay down the facts. My arms are folded across my chest. 

“I’m going to try one last time. DiZ said I could.”

Teal eyes examine me carefully. “Okay,” Riku eventually agrees. 

“Be careful.” Naminé, of course. Her worry chilly in my chest. I nod at her. 

“I will. I promise.” Now, beckon to Riku. “Let’s figure this out!”

Riku takes me to Twilight Town. Of course. 

“Why do we have to do it from Twilight Town?” Something about a nexus, I think, but I don’t really know what that means. And DiZ still won’t tell me. Not until I do this.

Riku tugs at his hair. “It’s shorter from there.”

“Shorter?” Tilt my head. 

“The Corridors. They feel shorter from Twilight Town to other worlds,” Riku explains, gesturing the length out with his hands. 

“Really? That’s...weird. And you’ve tried this out?”

“Castle Oblivion takes too long,” is Riku’s answer to that. 

I nod. Alright. I can accept it. Still weird, but I can deal with that like I have with everything else in this life so far. 

Hold my hand, focus on opening a Corridor under the forever setting sun. 

See, I think I’ve figured out my problem. 

If I can’t do places...I can do  _ people.  _ Like always finding Naminé in Castle Oblivion, or following after Vexen before everything went to hell. 

Let out a long breath. And I know someone in the Underworld, don’t I? 

Red robes, flan everywhere... _ Braska.  _

Focus. I can do this. 

Corridor, corridor...corridor  _ open!  _

I gesture to the new hole in the fabric of reality. “You first?” 

Riku narrows his eyes but does step towards it. Sweet. 

Now, for the moment of truth. Will I make it? Or not?

I swallow and follow after. 

* * *

The Prototype is gone again. 

Leaving the Modification Naminé behind once more. So much has changed yet so little has at the same time. 

The Guide has their own duties to attend to. As they always do. More and more, all the time, with these new inhabitants of Castle Oblivion. Defenses must be raised, viruses finally cleansed and derezzed. Continue the scan. Calculate possibilities for the Nobodies that the Prototype names. 

A flash of code. Familiar code. 

“Ah, you again?”

The Card Program from before. The one that keeps interfering, keeps following along with Naminé’s work. Doing enough that the Guide no longer has to mark the order of memories for her, not when the Card Program will do it instead. 

The Guide examines the Program carefully. “What is it this time?”

The change of color, and code, as the Program carefully mimics a Linking Program in form, gets the message across clear enough. 

Heels tap across the smoothness of a virtual floor. “You know as well as I do that it is impossible.”

Not after the Master  _ died,  _ after the new Master disappeared. The Card Program has  _ no right  _ to desire such an upgrade. 

More noise, more code. 

“You will. Hm.” The Guide taps a shoe against the floor. “How so?”

Ears perk up, blue brighter than ever. 

A promise, of more efficiency. An offer, through a data transfer. The Guide accepts the transfer and plays the contents immediately. A memory, that of Naminé’s work, from the Apprentice Sora. 

(“So then, if something happens, and Riku is about to get lost-”)

That  _ voice!  _ That  _ heart!  _ All noise stops immediately. The data instantly saved and backed up, once, twice, three times. 

The new Apprentices...they met Master Aqua? Nearly all running programs pause for three seconds at the new knowledge. An actual  _ lead _ , more than the Guide has had for more than a decade. A possibility of hope. 

“You say you can find more, with a deeper connection to Naminé.”

A flash of agreement. Red becomes brighter than blue. Clear manipulation, a strange feature to find in something as simple as a Card Program. But a manipulation with an added benefit for the Guide of Departure. If what it claims is correct. 

“Very well. Prepare to be reformatted.”

The Guide reaches out, with hand, with a line of added coding. Changes the Card Program from the inside out. To a Linking Program, much like the ones the Apprentices of Master Eraqus took with them as they disappeared into the unknown. 

_ D-Link created! User is -? _

“Modification Naminé.”

_ User Modification Naminé accepted. Connecting in three, two, one- Union complete.  _

Red and blue becomes white and blue, matching the Nobody’s clothes. Dog-like pattern becomes something more...rabbit-like with large floppy ears and back feet. The mark of the Land of Departure patterns across its belly, glowing with the active green. 

Nothing like the Linking Programs of Master Aqua or Apprentices Ventus and Terra. But every Linking Program is unique, to best suit the needs of their User. To properly serve as a Link across Dimensions, across Darkness. 

“List the possible links.”

_ Possible links include: Apprentice Sora, Apprentice Riku, and Prototype Ruse.  _

Three, almost right away? Like the strength of a Keyblade User’s heart, almost. An impossibility for a Nobody. Perhaps it has to do with Naminé’s strange creation, of Light instead of Dark. 

The reason behind those links do not matter. Not with the Linking Program ready and waiting for orders. Much calmer than it had ever been as a Card Program. 

“Find answers,” the Guide commands. They pace, back and forth, before their sleeping Apprentice. 

To the questions that have been plaguing them these many years. Ones that need answers as soon as possible. An answer that this new Linking Program might be able to discover like the discovery of the connection between the Master and the new Apprentices. 

“Where is the heart of Apprentice Ventus?”

“Where is Master Aqua?”

“And what happened to Apprentice Terra?”

* * *

The Corridor is long and Dark, but it’s going somewhere. At least. 

Better than nowhere. 

Reaching, reaching...feeling my way along. I  _ want to be where Braska is.  _

Tug, tug. I want to be  _ there.  _

Ah, an opening! “We’re there!”

On the other side, I can’t help but sigh from relief. The other side that is the cold Underworld cave and mist and fog and an  _ actual world.  _ We made it! I turn to Riku, hands on my waist, smiling. “Look! I did it!”

“That’s pretty cool,” Riku agrees, also...smiling? Oh, that’s cool! The best!

“I can help you out now!” Fist pump. “Now...I’ll check this out and you’ll...?”

“I’ll do Agrabah,” Riku says, after thinking his options through for a few minutes. Excellent. I’m  _ finally  _ doing something. 

“Meet you back at Twilight Town?” I try. 

“Yeah. I’ll see you there.” Riku disappears, in a much cooler fashion than myself, into a Dark Corridor to who knows where. Probably Twilight Town. 

Hm. “See you later?” I say out loud, to the now empty cave. 

Empty except for the Save Point. 

Mosh isn’t back yet. Huh. Wonder when he will be. 

Probably should go looking for Braska. He should be around here somewhere... Away from the Save Point.

I nod to myself and call out my shield. Best be prepared for monsters out there. 

A scream as  _ something  _ dives at me from the shadows, faster than I could ever possibly react and everything around me...changes. 

My surroundings...

(Darkdarkdark, glowing  _ pink.  _ I’m trapped.)

That  _ lab.  _ Full of those pink tubes and computers...but everything’s broken. Glass all over the floor, pink sludge mixed with something  _ darker.  _ Black tar material, almost. No more mist or Save Point. What is  _ going on? _

My chest moves, in and out. Too fast, too much. 

Why am I  _ here?  _

A shadow moves in the corner of my eye. I swirl around to catch it. And...that face, that strange glowing eyespot turned towards me, I know  _ it! _

My eyes feel like they’re about to pop out of my head. “ _ Zexion?!” _

What’s going on? Why is  _ he  _ here?

Here with a hole in his throat, gaping,  _ tearing.  _

“Beans.”

This isn’t gonna be good. The opposite of good, really. 

“Dude, what are you doing?”

No answer. Except for a  _ cold, cold  _ laugh, a shiver down my spine kind of laugh. 

Uh oh. 

One minute the Nobody’s floating in front of me. Watching me with uncanny eyes. The next, well...I’m too busy choking and struggling against the grip he’s taken. 

Claw at the hand digging into my throat. Useless, useless! Choking as it chokes the air out of me, my breath gone. 

Spots flash before my eyes. Dark spots growing bigger. Struggle and struggle and struggle. My legs kick. Useless.

_ Pain-blood-pain-dying! WHERE IS MY HEART! _

I’m going to die!

_ you-left-me-left-me-left-me _

“Release her.”

One minute I’m struggling for breath, for  _ life _ , above ground. Next I know, I’m  _ on  _ the ground, laying on my side. Gasping for breath, fingers touching my bruised neck. 

_ Braska  _ is there, standing over me. Standing between us. His staff taps the floor. 

“Your unrest and regret does nothing but cause yourself and others anguish.” A long red sleeve raises, hand in it pointing at my,  _ our _ , enemy. “Let  _ it go. _ ” 

No words. Just a snarl, in reply.

Now that I’ve noticed it, Zexion hasn’t said  _ any  _ words this entire time. Just the strange laughter and wild animalish snarling. 

What is going on?

“Very well. If that is your choice...” 

Braska points his staff at Zexion. A flash of light, of  _ power  _ that shakes me down to my bones. 

A scream, that’s more of a screech. And Zexion is  _ gone.  _ Along with the lab surroundings, fading away into mist. The mist of the Underworld. 

Oh, there’s the glow of the Save Point again. I’m safe...hopefully?

“Is he...gone?” I force my words up past my too dry tongue. 

“Banished for a short time, but not permanently.” Braska’s face is solemn. “I don’t have the strength for that. Not anymore.”

Oh no. 

My fingers dig in my scar. “What do I do then? When he comes back?” 

Braska taps his fingers against his staff. “...Keep from using your shield or magic around here. That should keep you safe enough.”

_ For now,  _ is what he doesn’t say. 

I let out a breath. “So what do I do?”

“I’ll need to take some time to consider what to do.” He frowns. “This would be easier with Auron here...”

Another reason to break the guy out, I guess. 

“So just be careful?”

Braska nods. “That would be best.”

_ An Absent Silhouette...but that was more of theory than anything else.  _ Vexen muses. Oh,  _ there  _ he is. Finally. Butt. 

I frown, rubbing at my face. “A theory about what?” Absent Silhouettes, those only came with the new remix of Kingdom Hearts II, not the original. Bonus bosses that you fought for fun, not story. Since they never came up again...thought they weren’t really canon. 

But they exist here? That’s...that’s something. Weird. 

_ A thought on what would happen to a soul that had Will strong enough to be a Nobody but lost its body. How interesting.  _

“A ghost. An angry ghost.” Or...I tap my chin. “A Lingering Will?”

... _ You say that like it’s supposed to mean something.  _

“Hmm.” To explain or not to explain? That is the question. 

“I see you’ve started speaking with the ghosts inside of you,” Braska’s voice breaks in, from behind me. 

“You know about that?” I twist around to face Braska more directly. About Vexen?

A smile. “I did say you carried ghosts with you, did I not?”

I think back to our first meeting. Huh. “Guess you did.” My face screws up as I start thinking out loud. “So what do you suggest then? What do I do?”

“Whatever you seek to do.”

I frown at that, leaning on my legs, elbows resting right above my knees. “Geeze, that’s helpful.”

“Do you have an overarching goal?” is Braska’s answer. 

I hum, tapping my chin. “...Not yet. But I’ll figure it out.” Eventually. A goal other than saving Xion and Roxas, that is. A goal I really don’t want to think about right now. Another time. “...Kinda want to fight some more monsters.” To get stronger, to get synthesis material. Obviously. 

_ You don’t need to fight anything.  _

Ha. That’s funny. “Hilarious that you think that, of all people.”

A hissing sound like steam.  _ I never fought in the Organization.  _

“Ha, and how well did that turn out for  _ you _ ?”

Silence. Hm. That may have been a  _ little  _ mean. 

Before I can find more words, there’s an interruption. Of voices I haven’t been expecting to hear again, not right away. 

“Hey, hey, we’ve been looking for you!” The impis? They’re  _ here?  _ How did they find me? I don’t move away, just wait for them to come to me. Talk to me, probably about the deal I made with them that they failed to keep. Whine at me about it again. 

“Hey, remember that oath of yours?” Panic digs his claws into my hip, since that’s what he can reach. Agh. 

I grit my teeth at the sudden pain. “Yeah?”

“We’ve got a fight for you, ghost,” Pain follows up with. 

Ghost, okay. Whatever, not going to correct them, not if what they say is true...

I smile. “A fight, huh? Take me to it.”

Better than uselessly wandering around searching for flan. “Coming, Braska?”

Braska shakes his head. “I cannot. Good luck on your battle.”

He can’t, huh? “I’ll be back soon, promise.”

So many promises, so little time...

I have to get stronger, that’s what these fights can promise me. So I won’t be left behind, so I can protect Naminé and support Riku. 

So I can  _ finally  _ be enough. 

“Are you sure?” Braska asks seriously. 

I think for a moment, on the silence in my head, of Naminé and everyone else I’ve known so far. “Yeah.”

He lowers his head. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

* * *

Braska watches Ruse walk away with Pain and Panic and thinks. 

She is still figuring out who she is, appearing safe enough for now, and on that endeavor, Braska wishes her well. But he already knows who he is and what he must do. 

Perhaps her idea to integrate herself with Hades’ minions will work out. Perhaps it will not. If it doesn’t, then Braska will assist her. He also needs a secondary plan, though. To get Auron out. 

It is a good thing that there are other new coming individuals that might end up assisting him in that. 

The sound of music leads him to the first soon enough. A man bent over his instructment, playing in the dark. He looks up as Braska approaches. 

“Oh, hey Braska!”

Braska smiles as he inclines his head to the musician. “Hello Demyx.”

Demyx is...he’s Other. Much like Ruse is, with far less Heart. Soul moving a body. Another Unsent? Soul forcing a body into shape and not much else. 

Whoever Demyx is, he’s friendly enough if more than a little lazy. Certainly not one Braska would trust at his back, but you don’t need to trust an individual to be friendly with them. 

Not like Ruse, who leaves herself open to everyone she encounters. Barely watches her back. A child of peace, a peace he wanted his own loved ones to experience. That he sacrificed for. But a peace that serves her not at all in this dangerous world. 

Braska chuckles to himself. What would Auron think of him, being so cautious? Be unfairly satisfied in a “I told you so” fashion, most likely. 

Gods, how Braska misses him. 

“What are you here for this time?” Braska asks the strange Other. 

The last few times have mostly been scouting, as far as Braska can tell. With a few expectations of fighting creatures called Heartless. 

“More fighting, ugh.” Demyx’s fingers scratch at his strange scales on the side of his face, a nervous tick much like Ruse’s. “Heartless are the  _ worst.” _

The flood of Heartless creatures have led to a flood of profit for the god of the Underworld. Minor imps herd the beasts into the world above, getting goods in exchange for more flesh shoved into the meatgrinder of the Coliseum for the entertainment of god and mortal alike. 

A bad idea. Braska sees what the Heartless do, to the monsters of the Underworld. There is no guarantee that affliction of theirs will not spread beyond that. The most he can do, however, is fight them back whenever they appear. 

Like fighting fiends. 

“As in life, so in death,” he whispers to himself. Some things never change, hm. Braska raises his voice to talk to Demyx once more. “I will take care of that problem then. In exchange for more of your music.”

Rapport is important. And the music...the memories stop fading. That way. Become clearer than they have been in who knows how long. Years, maybe. 

Demyx nods eagerly. “That’s a great idea! Go ahead!”

Hm. That brightness. Why does Braska have the feeling that Demyx comes here just for someone else to do the work for him? Not that it matters if that is the case, honestly. Not with their agreed exchange. 

Braska gives a short bow. “I will return. Shortly.”

Hopefully Ruse will return soon...Braska knows she enjoys music too. 

And Auron...

Perhaps he would enjoy these tunes as well. Will, in the future. 

* * *

“You’ll do great!” Panic says happily.

“You don’t even know me,” I can’t help but point out. 

Pain pats my arm. “Don’t die too fast. We need more meatshields.”

Whoa. That’s...great. Glad I know where I stand, here. Lovely. “Thanks?”

“Talk to the goat man. Say your name’s on his list,” Pain orders. 

“It is?”

“Yep!” Panic nods his head so much I’m half-afraid it’ll fly off and his horns will poke an eye out. 

“...Okay. I’ll do that then.”

How did they get my name on a list? How did they find out  _ my name?  _ Questions, questions, always with the questions. I’ll figure it out. Eventually. 

Then get back to Braska. After the fight. Yeah. 

Stairs ahead, leading to somewhere brighter than my current foggy surroundings. 

I head towards them, only to pause mid-step as the imps don’t follow me. “Not coming?”

Panic shakes his head. “Not allowed. Part of the rules.”

Rules? Hm. I frown a little. Guess that explains why Hades always recruited monsters and heroes for fighting Hercules on the side. Other than not wanting his face to get beat in, of course. 

“Alright then?” 

Panic pokes me in the back. Right along my spine. “Go on! Fight! Win!”

“Got it!” I smile and head for the stairs. Head up, into the brighter and brighter light. Into the area before the gate that always led to the Coliseum in the Kingdom Hearts games. The statues there are...very big. Much bigger in person. Bigger than I thought they would be, silly enough. 

Head for the door, push past it to a golden interior that looks exactly like the games’ lobby before the fights. I find myself heaving an internal sigh of relief from that being the same, at least. 

There’s...Phil. He’s barely taller than Pain. Kinda reddish like the imp too. It’s...weird. The room stinks of goat and goats, I know for a fact, can be pretty stinky. What a strange experience, to run into a person with goat legs and horns. How weird. 

Just when I thought life couldn’t be any weirder...

“Hey, kid, fighters only.”

“My name should be on your list.” I point. That’s what Pain and Panic said after all...

Phil looks over the list in his hands. Looks back up at me. “The only new name on my list is...Mors?”

Huh. They gave me a stage name then? Might as well go with it. At least it’s not Riku...and that’s an answer for my question, how they knew my name. They didn’t. 

I shrug. “Yep.” 

A suspicious eye-squint in my direction. 

“A rookie gets the opening fights. Got to get that blood pumping.” Phil’s hooves tap against the stone floor. The sound’s pretty loud. 

“Now, Heartless or Monster for your fights?” Phil asks me, fingers tapping his list. Oh, I can pick? That’s interesting. In the games, Roxas and Sora must have picked Heartless every time. And for good reason too. 

“Heartless. Hm, where do the Heartless come from, for this?”

Phil peers at me over his scroll. “None of your business, kid.”

Hm. I frown. That’s something I’m going to find out, if it kills me. The curiosity burns in my stomach. Like my ongoing, never ending hunger. 

Phil cuts through my thoughts before I can think much further on that. “You sure you should be here?” 

I bristle. “I’m fighting!”   
Phil raises an eyebrow. Skeptic. Huge skeptic. Thankfully, he doesn’t say anything about stopping me from fighting. 

“Something to keep in mind, over the three rounds. Since you’re a rookie.”

Phil shoves a finger in my face. Wags it vigorously. 

“Two words! A three potion limit!”

Three potions, hm? A smile creeps onto my hidden face. Well,  _ that  _ won’t be a problem for me. Hm. I should gather some money or something for potions later. Wonder when Mosh will come back to the Underworld...

That’s for the future. Nothing I can do about that now. Except from getting hurt too much. Easier said than done, honestly. Unless I’m dealing with basic Heartless. 

...That’ll probably be it. 

I give Phil a sure nod. 

The satyr squints at me. “You ready to go?”

“More than ready.” I cough slightly at the end of my words. Ugh, can’t get words stuck in my throat!

“Okay, if you say so...” Phil arches an eyebrow at me. Waves at me. “Go on. That way’s the arena.”

“Thanks.” A dark tunnel. Man, everything is so  _ big.  _ Alive here, more of a world than anything else. A large gate cranks up before me. 

I step into the arena, sand crunching underfoot. 

My arm goes up to shield my eyes from the unexpected brightness of the sun. Whoa, awfully bright compared to the shadows of the Underworld. It’s hard to believe the two are part of the same world. 

But then, I suppose anyone who saw the varied biomes of Earth would think the same. 

The crowd isn’t too big. Probably cuz I’m just the opening act. Nothing special here. Just a newbie fighting some Heartless. Not empty, like in the Kingdom Hearts games. Almost like the world doesn’t rely on rendering and extra animation for people. Whoa, isn’t that  _ crazy _ ?

I giggle. Yeah, that’s right. I’m here to show off. No holding back. (Except maybe a little.)

“Let the battles begin!” Someone (unfamiliar voice) announces. 

Summon my shield and ready myself. 

_ What are you doing?  _

I hum, as the gate closes behind me. The boxes scattered about the arena break open. Unleashing Cannon shaped Heartless. Most in reach, some not, on top of more boxes. 

_ Ruse, what are you doing? _

A sense of panic around the words. Heh. Vexen  _ deserves  _ this. 

I grin. “Thought it would be obvious.”

Hum a song, a song singing in my veins. Perfect for this kind of fight. 

“You’ll never see it coming~! Whoo-ot~!” Swirl there, twist my body out of that splash of that cannon blast. 

Stretch out my hand, reach for that lost feeling and there! Cannon becomes an ice block. Perfect target for me to rush up and hit as hard as I can with my shield, shattering the Heartless. Rinse, and repeat. 

...What about the ones out of reach then?

_ Use your shield to block.  _

Hmm. Hold my shield up to block then, I can feel the knowledge that is not mine (not really) sweeping through my new stance, my grip. 

Can feel the hits bouncing off...can I bounce them back? 

Vexen feeds me calculations, of where to stand, how to tilt the shield, that my body somehow manages to obey. Miss hitting the Heartless with their own attacks the first few times. Bounce them off uselessly into the air instead. Because...

_ You’re too short!  _

“Not my fault you’re too tall!” Readjust, for my  _ own  _ height. Go back to singing Last Surprise. 

Ha!

I get every single Heartless, as they mindlessly shoot at me. Excellent practice. 

“You’ll never see it, the last surprise~”

“Round one complete!”

Sweet! Time for round Two? Yeah?

Round Two is much of the same, with more Cannon Heartless and a few of the Watcher Robots that I’ve seen at Twilight Town. No trouble at all!

Round Three...that’s a  _ little  _ more difficult. 

“Bark bark!”

“Stupid dogs!” Send one flying into the air with a sweep of my shield while another attempts to gnaw through my Dark Suit into my leg. 

Six Bad Dogs, all constantly circling around me and make it hard to hit ‘em. My heart hurts at the thought of what they must have been before this. Before Heartless. 

Oh well, still gotta smash ‘em. 

Wiggle my fingers, sprinkle ice across the sand. Get the dogs slipping about. Then hit them, hard, while they’re off balance. Takes care of all but one that way. 

The last leaps straight for my face. Good thing my shield’s already in the way, to bounce it back. The Bad Dog howls, at least until I pulverize it. Explode it, really, shadowy bits and material stuff everywhere. 

Victory is mine. 

The stands cheer. Not completely full of people but there are certainly enough to create an uproar in response to my victory. 

Victory pose? I grin. Yeah, victory pose. 

One hand on my hip, other raised with fingers in the shape of a V. 

The crowd gets even louder. 

_ What was the point of this? You don’t need to fight for them! _

“Shut up,” I hiss through my clenched smile. Why must Vexen be such a... _ pain?  _ Dismiss my shield so I can’t hear him anymore. Not as loud, anyway. 

The gates grind loudly as they open behind me. Well, guess that’s my cue. Turn, waving as I do so, and walk out. The cheering is loud but the noise lessens as I walk through the dark tunnel to the Coliseum’s backstage. So to speak. 

Now that I’m out...time for a snack. Granola bar comes out and  _ crunch.  _ Not the best to taste. Still enough to chase away the pangs. The worst of them, anyway. 

Crunch. Crunch. 

Phil’s in the back, of course. Staring at me, arms folded over his hairy chest. He’s not tapping his hoof, but he seems ready to. 

“Not bad, for an opening fight.” 

I smile. “Right?”

Phil flaps a hand at me. “Now, get out of here!”

“That’s my only fight for today?” Seems weird.

“Yeah, fight more and you might get more. Right now? You’re done, Mors.”

I nod. Turn on my heel. “Alright then.”

Hear the faintest mutter. “...ghosts. They’re all the same.”

Huh. But that’s not really my problem, now is it? Not a ghost, but will he believe if I tell him? Doesn’t matter, as long as I can come back. Hmmm. Plan a bit? Plan a bit. 

Do more fights here, under the name Mors, to get stronger. See if Demyx is still around. Go to Twilight Town to check up with Riku. Go to Castle Oblivion to connect with Naminé. And Guide too, I guess, with DiZ. Straightforward. 

Got a plan, then. 

Simple enough that not too much should be able to go wrong. 

I smile even wider than before, putting my hands behind my head. “Maybe the future isn’t something to be scared of, after all...”

  
  


“...For some reason, the number of Heartless have been going down in Twilight Town.”

“And you want me to investigate?”

“Better you than any of the others.”

“Alright, I’ll take Roxas then. His Keyblade might come in handy.”

“Very well.”

A loud yawn.

Yellow eyes narrow “What was that?”

A gloved hand waves. “Nothing, nothing. It’s...I’ve been more tired lately. That’s all.”

“With the amount of sleep you ge-”

“Never mind, it doesn’t matter.”

“...Complete your mission as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got it memorized.”


	22. Uncool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which no one is cool, Roxas could possibly make a new friend, Axel is missing some Critical Information, Namine D-Links, and Riku makes a no-emotion sharing pact. That's sure to end up well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like a madman in the night...more chapter! Enjoy!

Twilight Town looks the same as ever. Calm quiet streets, and a sunset that never really finishes setting all the way. 

If it looks the same, then how come the Heartless are disappearing from it? According to Saïx, at least. That’s what Axel said, when he got Roxas for today’s mission. 

That’s why they’re here. 

To look for Heartless. 

“Hm, where to first?” Axel looks around, eying nearby shadows. Slowly, carefully, the two of them move from shadow to shadow. This way...it’ll take too long. They won’t be able to finish your mission in time at that rate. 

“I can look over there while you look here?” Roxas suggests, gesturing to the other side of the town. 

Axel nods. “That sounds like a good idea. We’ll get done faster that way.”

“And ice cream right after?” Roxas can’t help but perk up at that. 

Axel stretches out, putting his hands behind his head. “Sounds like a great idea.” Nods with a smile. “See you then?”

“See you then,” Roxas confirms, opening a Corridor to go to the other part of Twilight Town. Enough to cover what Axel can’t, by himself. 

Roxas heads for the roofs first. There are less Somebodies on roofs, to run into, and he can see more from there. 

On the rooftop...the view has a lot to show him. Not much as on the clocktower, but it’s high enough for him to look for any suspicious dark patches and shadows that might mean Heartless. 

Roxas walks forward, eyes taking in everything he can. If he finishes quickly...well, they can have ice cream sooner. 

“Whoa!”

There’s a person sitting at the edge of the roof. A Somebody he’s nearly tripped over, Roxas realizes. “Oops.”

Purple eyes blink at him. “Well, hello there?”

That face is like his, but it isn’t, not at all. Just small. Like those other Somebodies he saw “laughing” together as friends, like himself, like Xion. That means something that he doesn’t know yet, but he will. Eventually. 

This face has dark purple markings that look a lot like the streaks that Axel has under his eyes. Roxas wonders what they are. Maybe he should ask Axel some time? Surrounded by silver hair similar to the Superior’s, from underneath a strange cloth-thing as a cover. Purple, like the face markings and eyes. 

Those eyes watching him...too late to vanish now, hide. He’ll just...have to pretend to be a Somebody! He can do that...probably. 

“My name’s Roxas,” he blurts out.

A slow blink. “Okay? Mine’s Ruse.”

Somebodies have names? Of course they have names, why wouldn’t they? They have hearts and everything Nobodies don’t, so they have names too. 

Also, are all Somebodies boys and girls? Or are some of them neither, like what Axel said about Lesser Nobodies? Because he can’t tell which one Ruse is. It’s what happened with Xion all over again. 

...His head hurts. 

“Um.” What does he say next? This isn’t anyone from the Organization, so they won’t have anything for him to do. This isn’t one of his friends, so they won’t have ice cream. 

What does he do?

“Do you want to sit down?” This “Ruse” points at the rooftop edge, right next to them. 

“Okay?” He sits. Like sitting on the clocktower but not that high. 

“Sopapilla?” Ruse offers him a square flat thing. Unfamiliar. 

Roxas feels his lips turn down. “What’s that?”

“A treat. You eat it, like...ice cream.” Ruse’s teeth show in a smile. “Sweet, like ice cream too.”

Like ice cream? “Does that mean we’re friends?”

Ruse tilts their head, thinking about it. “Do you want to be?”

Roxas fidgets, tugging a little at his gloves. “I...I don’t know.” It’s not like with Axel, who’s always been there. Or Xion, who he just...connected to, a tug in his chest leading him to her. They’re Nobodies, too.

Between him and this Somebody, there’s nothing. The Somebody doesn’t even know he’s a Nobody either. 

“Look, you can just have the sopapilla if you want. Doesn’t have to mean anything.” Ruse glances away, over the city, before meeting Roxas’ eyes again. “We don’t have to be friends.”

“Okay.” That’s good. That they don’t have to be friends with sopapillas. Not like with ice cream. 

“You should take your gloves off.” Ruse nods at his hands, gesturing with the sopapilla. “Don’t want to get your gloves all messy.”

That’s a good idea. 

Carefully, slowly, Roxas slides his gloves off. Puts them away in his pockets and turns his attention back to Ruse. 

They’re staring at his hands. Roxas blinks. “What are you doing?”

Ruse moves their shoulders, shaking themselves out of whatever daze they were in. “Sorry, nevermind, your hands...they’re great. I guess? That sounded weird, don’t listen to that.” A hand flaps in his direction as the Somebody babbles. 

“Can I have the sopapilla now?”

“Oh yeah, here.”

The small food packet is passed over. Roxas takes a small bite. 

It’s sweet...but not salty. Nothing like sea salt ice cream.

Still, it tastes good. Even if it’s kinda _too_ sweet. 

Maybe Xion would like it too. 

* * *

Why the hell does Roxas look so _normal?_ Even Naminé’s got something a little weird about her, in the Nobody territory since she glows. 

But no, he looks like a normal human boy. As far as I can tell, with that bulky coat of his. His hands are perfectly normal too. Average. Nothing special. No glow, no weird eyes, no _nothing_. 

The only thing that might mark him a little different from his gameplay counterpart is that he’s got a darker tinge at his roots. _Sora_ colored hair tinge, mixed with that dirty blond. 

Weird. 

A boy who’s chomping through that sopapilla like it’s the last food in the world. Er. Good thing I got sopapillas from the bakery before heading up here. Better than offering the clearly hungry kid a granola bar. 

I lean back with a sigh. A satisfied sigh. “Sopapillas are the best.”

“No, sea salt ice cream is better,” Roxas disagrees with a full mouth. Swallows, finishing the sopapilla off. 

I lift an eyebrow. Or lift both of them because I can’t move one at a time. “Really? I’ve never had any.”

In this life or the last...always meant to try some, to see what the fuss was all about. 

Didn’t quite manage it, in the end. 

“Well, I can’t have any with you,” Roxas announces, rather matter-of-factly. “Because we’re not friends.”

Heh, that’s adorable. Pre-angst Roxas is so cute. Like a little puppy. 

I roll my shoulders. “Sure. I’ll try it in my own time.” 

The clouds over the town look very nice, more orange at this time compared to the usual golden tinge. Pretty. _Alive._

Rub at my face, along the scars. “Hey, could we possibly be friends? In the future?”

Roxas considers my question very seriously, while putting his gloves back on. “I dunno. I need to ask my friends first.”

At that, I can’t help but laugh. Holy crap, he’s so _adorable,_ it’s killing me. 

“You’re laughing.” A question, really, behind those blue eyes. 

“Yeah, it’s...because I think you’re funny.” I feel kinda bad saying that, but I don’t really want to lie to the kid. He’s already got enough people lying to him, doesn’t need me adding to that. 

Like my unspoken deal with Naminé, that I answer her questions. I’ll answer Roxas’, the best I can. 

“What’s funny?” Speaking of. 

“Funny is...” I lean back again, fingers tapping against the concrete I’m sitting on. How do you explain humor? What’s the saying, explaining a joke makes it less funny?

I breathe. Try again, for this blond kid patiently watching me with his blue blue eyes. Hasn’t blinked once. Okay, maybe that’s a _little_ creepy. 

“Funny depends on the person,” I explain, “But right now, for this, funny is...” Lift my hands to gesture, fingers twisting in circles. Grasping for words. How do you explain something that everyone takes for granted, like breathing? Rules that people don’t even know that they’re following?

...With great difficulty, I must tell you. 

“It was when reality didn’t match up to what I thought. You responded differently than I thought you would, so I laughed.”

Roxas’ face scrunches up in thought. “...How did I do that?”

I lean towards him, smiling as I almost whisper to him. In a conspiring fashion. “Most people don’t tell you straight out that they’re not friends with you.”

Can’t help but giggle a little at that. At that honesty. Guess explaining jokes _can_ be funny, after all. 

I crunch up my empty sopapilla bag. “Hm, why’re you here, anyway?”

“I can’t tell you,” Roxas says in what must be his “serious” voice. 

“Mmmkay, but rhetorically...” I tap at my chin, trying to keep a straight face. Trying not to smile. “If you were looking for shadow monsters, maybe, not saying you are...I would say that they were...”

I point over at the woods. “There, most of the time. If you asked! Which you didn’t.”

“Oh. Okay.” Roxas’ eyes widen a little, as he twists his head to look in the direction I’m pointing. “But there are shadow monsters there?”

I nod. “Yup!” Make a popping noise with my tongue, one that causes Roxas to jump slightly in response. Oops. 

My fingers scratch at my neck. 

“But you didn’t ask and I didn’t say anything, got it? A _secret_.” I press the finger on my other hand against my lips in a shushing gesture. 

Roxas wrinkles his nose. “Why does it matter?”

“Look, you’ve been here before, right?” I lean on my knees, over the city. Keeping my eyes on Roxas, to be sure he gets my point. “Will you be able to come back and have your sea salt ice cream if you told people that some stranger told you about the shadow monsters?”

Gotta be careful not to say “Somebody,” can’t let him know the jig is up...

Please let him accept my explanation. Which is true. But not everything. I _would_ like to pass under the radar a bit longer, and not have the Organization on my tail for daring to be a replica out of their control. 

That would be bad. For a number of reasons. Mostly because I’m pretty sure they would just kill me straight out. 

Accept the explanation but also don’t question why I seem to know so much about the type of people who would send a kid into the woods to fight Heartless. That would also be bad. 

Eventually, Roxas does nod. “Okay.”

Nothing more, nothing less. Sweet. 

I wave at him. “Have fun.” Then I turn away, to look over the city. Give him space to conveniently vanish in a way non-magical people don’t. 

Which he does, with a whoosh of the growing ever familiar Dark Corridor. 

There’s that buzzing of words of my chest as a certain someone attempts to communicate with me. Unclearly. 

Pull on that loss, the fact that I have no more sopapillas and ice crawls up my hand, to my fingers. Cold and frigid. 

- _you are talking to Number XIII?_

I tilt my head. Only got some of that, but it’s not too hard to guess what the rest of Vexen’s complaint is. 

“Because he seems pretty okay and I like him.” Also, he deserves better than to get absorbed into Sora after a year, but I’m not talking to Vexen about that. 

Vexen sputters. 

_You should not be talking to Organization members so casually! Such as Number IX._

I stick out my tongue. “It’s none of your business.”

_I am in here with you. Why ever not?_

Readjust my stance, move my legs to give my “manhood” more breathing room. Geeze, how annoying. 

To get my mind off that...start thinking about Roxas again. How _human_ he is. Why?

If Roxas has that darker streak of hair, from Sora... wonder how close to Ventus he looks. 

“Wonder if Ventus still looks a lot like him...” I muse out loud. 

Silence. Then, a single serious question. 

_How do you know about Ventus?_

I freeze. Oops. _Oops._ I did not _mean_ to say that. Oh crap, oh crap. 

_Ruse, explain._

Oh, he used my _name._ Serious bizness. Unfortunately for him, I don’t really want to talk about this. Let the ice fade away, let go of my puny magic and let his voice fuzz away into an annoying throb. Buzzing more than words, easier to ignore that way. 

Frick, frick, I messed up. I messed up. Now _Vexen_ knows that I know too much. Out of everyone, though, it would be Vexen with the possibility of figuring it out. Since he’s in my _head._

Stupid. Stop thinking about it, can’t change it. Where’s Riku? Wanna talk to Riku so I can stop thinking, can ignore the buzz of Vexen more easily. 

Hm. I wonder where Riku is...?

I hum, looking over the streets once more. No black coat that I see, from up here. Hmmm. Something itches at my brain...should there be something to worry about?

Wait. 

Did Roxas come here alone?

Or is _someone_ else here with him? Another Nobody that Riku could possibly get in trouble with? Far too early for Days canon, if that’s the case...please let that not be the case. And out of those Nobodies...

I grit my teeth. “Frick, I _really_ hope Riku doesn’t run into fricking _Axel.”_

A howl, rising about the inner static. 

_We will be having this conversation now!_

“Please, for the love of waffles, _shut up.”_

* * *

“Man, look at that sunset...”

A lot of orange today. Less red, but that’s alright. There’s always tomorrow for that. 

Axel shields his eyes and looks at the orange and purple dashed sky. Full of clouds in every shape and size. 

Difficult to enjoy, without a heart. 

Keeps his senses open, Scan going like it always is...no Heartless. Not even the barest of Shadows. Someone must be clearing them out, then, making it longer for the monsters to reform. Outside of the Organization, since as far as Axel is aware, it’s been a couple weeks since a mission was last assigned here. 

Who could it be?

Feels like someone is watching. In fact...Axel takes a deep breath. He can _feel_ someone with his extra assassin tracking senses. 

“Why don’t you come on out?” Axel beckons with a wiggle of his fingers to the shadows. To his watcher. “C’mon, I know you’re there.”

A small figure walks forward, in the light. A flash of silver hair- Axel blinks. Clearing out his eyes, that’s all. 

It’s Riku. In an Organization coat. And with that sword of his. Honestly, at this point, Axel isn’t even sure why he’s surprised. Of _course_ that kid would be poking around, with his friend trapped in a coma. 

“Riku...been a while since we last saw each other. What are you up to?”

“What’s the Organization doing here?” Riku shoots back, eyes fierce as he points his sword at Axel. 

Axel can’t help but laugh. “Ha, none of your business!”

Summon his chakrams. He’s not really one for a direct fight, but Riku’s stance and determined face makes it clear the kid won’t have it any other way. 

Sword meet chakram. Spark and flame, set. 

The fight hasn’t gone on very long before Axel can feel it creeping from his chest. That familiar ugly physical feeling that shouldn’t be very familiar at all, one’s that been building in him ever since he got back from Castle Oblivion. 

A shortness of breath, in his lungs. Like he’s getting sick, from what little he remembers it as a Somebody. Which is impossible. Nobodies don’t get sick. 

Like how Nobodies don’t fall asleep for an entire month, some snide thought pops up. 

Let out a breath. Lot of impossible things lately. 

But he can’t be getting sick. That’s even more impossible. 

Whatever it is, Axel should end this fight soon. 

“Back off!” Streams of fire from his hands should be enough...

Riku dodges out of the way, dancing out of the way as Darkness wisps around him. 

“Ah, you mastered your Darkness, huh?”

A flash of unease across that face as Riku pauses briefly in his attack. Speaks _words_ , those moments. 

“Still not your thing, I see.”

Enough...there! Axel whacks Riku into the wall, while he’s still hesitating, hard enough that the kid doesn’t get up right away. 

_Would_ feel bad, but, hey, Nobody!

Two finger salute, take a Corridor out.

“Make sure you don’t forget me, got it?” Vanishes to the other side of town, where Roxas is, before Riku has a chance to say anything. 

Guess he can blame Riku for the missing Heartless...that’s the most likely cause. Axel pulls his hand through his hair. But he’ll have to be careful on how he phrases it, otherwise he won’t be able to come back here as often as he likes. 

Roxas appears, out of a Dark Corridor. If not for repeated exposure to Xigbar, Axel would have jumped. 

“Find any Heartless?” 

Roxas nods, but doesn’t say anything. Unnaturally quiet in a way Xion usually is. 

At that, even without the necessary emotion for it, Axel can’t help but frown. 

“What happened?”

Roxas looks away, shuffling his feet. Crazy how well he can mimic a Somebody without any memories. 

“...Can I be friends with a Somebody?”

If Axel had a heart, he’s pretty sure it would have stopped just then. “ _What?”_

Roxas flinches. “Sorry...I didn’t mean to run into Ruse.”

Axel’s fingers go up to his temple. Oh, yeah, that’s a headache building right there. Saïx is going to have _kittens._ “You talked to a Somebody named Ruse?”

Weird name, but who’s he to judge? He knew a kid named _Cloud,_ of all possible names, once upon a time. 

It’s the “friend” part he should really be paying attention to, here. 

“Look, Roxas...” Axel pulls his hand through his hair, scratching at his head. “We can’t really be friends with Somebodies. This Ruse didn’t know you were a Nobody, right?”

Please let that be the case...

Roxas nods. 

Whew, that’s a relief. 

“They did tell me what funny is, though.” Roxas pauses, adding on as an afterthought, “Because I didn’t know.”

“Huh, okay.” Just some Somebody who saw a kid and the kid didn’t know what funny was...that would be weird, but Twilight Town is weird. This Ruse might be thinking about the strange kid they explained funny to, but not for long if Roxas never sees them again. 

Saïx might have kittens...but only if they tell him. 

Just one accidental run-in, that’s it. Roxas said he wouldn’t meet this Somebody again, so it won’t be a problem. They don’t have to tell anyone about this, Roxas doesn’t need to get in serious trouble for a simple mistake. It’ll be fine. 

“Hey, how ‘bout you don’t put Ruse in your report?”

“Why not?”

Well, that’s a question that _really_ needs a good answer. Too bad Axel doesn’t really know what that is. Everything about Roxas makes everything so much more complicated than it used to be. 

Or is he just being forced to think about, in ways he never had to before? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. It _can’t_ matter. 

“You don’t want Saïx to yell at you, do you?” Not that he’ll _actually do that_ , the man’s been intent on mostly ignoring Roxas for some reason. 

Roxas nods, head going up and down like a bobblehead. “No. So...okay, I won’t put that in.”

That’s good. Axel puts his fingers together. That taken care of, onto the next step...

“What did this Somebody look like?” For avoiding purposes, of course. Not like he’s possibly plotting burn anyone to ash, no, not at all. 

Roxas thinks for a moment, before his hand reaches up towards his face. 

“They had...markings. Like yours.” Roxas runs his fingers along his cheeks, probably sketching out what the Somebody’s “markings” look like. “What are they?”

“Like mine? Same color and everything?” Axel waits for a nod, before explaining. His own fingers trace along his tattoos as he does so. “They’re probably tattoos, then.”

“Tattoos...” Roxas tries out the word. “Yeah, they were all purple. Like their eyes.”

“Wait, you were looking into their eyes?”

“They were talking to me,” Roxas says. As if it’s as easy as that, when the kid very rarely meets _anyone’s_ eyes in the Organization. But then, that might be because he’s so short. 

Was _Axel_ ever that short? He can’t remember. 

“Okay, lots of purple. Anything else?”

“A red shirt,” Roxas finally states, after some thought. “And sopapillas.”

“What?” Axel blinks. 

“Food. They gave me one and said we didn’t have to be friends, with sopapillas.”

“Um, Roxas?” Axel scratches at his head. He can’t believe he has to give this talk. “You don’t accept food from strangers. Got it memorized?” Especially from adults, like the one Roxas must have run into. But the kid doesn’t quite get what an adult is, and he doesn’t want to explain right now, so blanket coverage of no stranger food should be fine. 

Flicks the kid’s shoulder. Roxas puts his hand on his chin, in that way he does when deep in thought, before nodding. “Okay, I won’t.”

“So not going to meet this Ruse again?”

“I won’t,” Roxas says. “I promise.” 

Axel relaxes at that. Roxas _is_ pretty good at keeping promises. Must be a leftover from his Somebody, along with the Keyblade. 

“Sweet, that’s great!” Axel claps a hand on his shoulder. “Xion’s probably waiting for us and our mission’s done, soooo...”

Roxas smiles. “Let’s get ice cream for her, then.”

Axel gives a firm nod. “Yep.”

He watches the small Nobody walk ahead of him, towards the ice cream place. His breathing is easier now, compared to the fight. Everything seems a bit easier now, with some sea salt ice cream in his immediate future. Thinks. 

One single Somebody, in an entire world of them. It’ll be easy enough to take care of. So Roxas won’t ever get in trouble or be in danger. 

What are the odds that it’ll ever be a problem?

* * *

Riku stands there, flexing his hands. The Organization is _here._

What is he going to do? Is there anything he can do?

DiZ might know more...and the King, too. 

“Riku, you okay? You didn’t show up, so thought I’d go find you...”

Ruse. Of course. At least it’s not the Organization again. She’s wearing her normal red shirt and dark pants. Very different from anything he’s ever worn. 

Riku forces himself to nod. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

Purple eyes scrutinize him. “You sure? We could talk about it.”

Talk about it? Never. 

“No thanks.”

Ruse lets out a sigh. “Won’t lie, that’s kinda a relief. Not too good at the emotion stuff.”

Emotion stuff? Like with Naminé? “Didn’t you run down the hall to get away from Naminé and-”

Ruse waves her hands somewhat frantically. “No, no, not talking about it. You said no talking, so we aren’t. Talking, I mean. About feelings and stuff.”

“That’s a good idea.” 

“Isn’t it?”

Out of nowhere, Ruse summons her weapon. Her shield. And a bag. 

“Hey, mind holding this for me?”

Before Riku can come up with an answer to that, Ruse shoves her shield in his hands. 

It’s cold, is the first thing he notices. Which makes sense, considering who owned his shield before the replica. 

Shields, shields...

“I didn’t pick the shield,” he says. The words fall out without him thinking about it. 

“Whatcha you mean by that?” Ruse looks up, from where she’s digging through the bag. Pulls out... _something_ that Riku can’t quite make out and the bag vanishes. 

Riku pauses. Frowns, because _what_ does he mean by that? Didn’t pick the shield...

(“You made your choice long before you ever met me, boy.”)

Shakes his head. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need to think about Ansem. The Heartless is gone now. 

“It doesn’t matter.”

“...Okay. Whatever you say.” Ruse shoots a skeptic look at him. Still holding the whatever it is, clenched tightly in her fist. 

Time to change the subject. “...Why am I holding your shield again?” 

A flash of _disgust,_ of all things, on that face. “I just...can’t deal with it right now.” She flicks her fingers at it. Shoves the thing in her other hand in her mouth. 

Riku just watches her, mouth wide open. Should he do something about that?

Ruse crunches very loudly, watching him like she’s done absolutely nothing to worry about. 

Um. Riku looks the shield over. Blue and white and the same it’s always been since Ruse started using it. The same as Vexen’s, only smaller. 

What exactly about the shield needs to be “dealt with?” Whatever it is, well, he can hold it for a little bit longer. As well as not ask about whatever Ruse just...ate. Don’t want to get into the synthesis material problem again...

“Okay.”

A smile. Crooked and jagged, forced into that strange shape by the scars along with _something_ more that belongs purely to the heart inside. Riku has never smiled like _that._ More overwhelming proof that Ruse isn’t him and will never be him. Maybe he should make a list, in case DiZ brings the replica thing up again. 

“Thanks.” The smile falls, as Ruse shuffles her feet, hands behind her back. 

“Since you said no fighting Heartless...wanna just sit here and watch the clouds?”

Riku thinks the offer over, turning it around carefully in his mind. Like watching the stars with Sora, almost. But this is no night sky, and Sora’s asleep. 

But maybe, he should try something new. Especially with Ruse looking at him with her purple eyes like that. 

“Sure.”

“Great!” Ruse brightens, and sits down right away. Scoots up to lean against the wall. 

Riku looks from her to the shield and back again. “Uh, you want this back?”

A head shake. “Not yet.”

Riku sits down next to Ruse and very carefully leans the shield against the wall next to him. Surprisingly, it doesn’t disappear like most weapons of this kind do. Just sits there, out of Ruse’s reach. Who doesn’t look back at it once. Only reaching out to point at the sky above, smiling. 

“That cloud totally looks like a rabbit!” Ruse points. 

Riku squints. Guess that flick of cloud _could_ be an ear, and that a tail... “I guess it does. That one’s a crab then.” Points at a different one. 

“A crab? You sure?”

“Of course a crab. See, there’s the pinchers right there...”

* * *

Naminé finds a square package under her chair, once she’s finished her memory-work for the day. Longer than her usual quick work, even assisted by the _other_ that might be the Guide. Slowed by her thoughts being stuck on Ruse. Is she okay? Did she make it?

(Will she come back?)

At least she’s making progress on Sora’s memories. That’s one thing going right. 

The package serves as a distraction from her flurry of thoughts on Ruse. Where did it come from, what is it? And why does it feel so familiar?

The strange pack...the words _Command Deck_ flash across the small clear square along the top of it. 

She considers tapping at the words in that clear square, trying to pull the device apart. Touching those words is certainly something Ruse would do. Ruse has also gotten herself into a lot of trouble as well. 

Naminé sticks to examining with her eyes. 

Blue and white, like her clothes. Patterns of strange blue animals on it. On the back...turning the device over, there’s a symbol. A symbol she _knows._ “The Key to Depature’s symbol,” Naminé breathes. 

A connection to the Land of Departure. Is there something about “Command Decks” written down, in Terra’s words?

She pulls out the book and flips it open. Searching for the right words. Anything about the strange thing sitting in her lap. 

Her fingers trace the words, dance along the pages. 

There. 

**_My Command Deck is finished. But the Master wants me to list its uses before I get it. Aqua’s already done. She won’t let me copy hers. Won’t even trade!_ **

Her lips move into a smile. 

One day, Naminé would like to meet Terra. Meet the boy behind these words, who seems so kind, so bright. Meet him and his Master and his friend. If only she could figure out where the Land of Departure is...

Now, about the Command Deck.

**_Put spells into the Command Deck to make them Commands. Then use the Commands to cast spells without using your own Magic. Uses the Magic of the World around instead, whatever that means._ **

Put her spells into it? Naminé looks the Command Deck over again. Speaks to it, even if the thought is a little silly. “Mmm...I want to put my spells in?” 

The Deck clicks. Underneath the box with its name, a flap flips open. Revealing...three slots? Naminé puts a finger up to her lips as she thinks. 

“Three slots...”

_“One for each spell.”_

Naminé jumps at the sudden voice, spinning around. Her eyes light on the Deck. “Was that...you?” There isn’t anyone or anything else around here, after all. It had to be. 

“ _Awaiting spells,”_ the same voice as before chirps from the device, high-pitched and happy sounding. 

“Um, okay.”

Three slots and one for each spell, like the Command Deck said. It would be useful to have, especially if it means she doesn’t have to use her own magic. A secret defense. 

Naminé puts her hands together. Thinking. But if there are only three slots...

“I have to pick three of the spells I know.” And she knows a lot more than three at this point, thanks to Terra’s book. 

Which ones?

Ruse has Ice...but doesn’t seem to like Fire. She did like Gravity a lot, though. And Naminé herself doesn’t like Thunder, it’s a reminder of...Larxene. One she’d rather not think about. 

Naminé counts off the spells she wants off her fingers. “Zero Gravity, Sleep, and Cure.”

Nothing. Hm?

“ _Please cast into the Command Deck.”_

“Okay.” Easy enough to do, feed a little power to the Deck and watch as the slots fill up with words. Words for the spell put in. 

Simple and easy. Unlike the next question the block poses. 

“ _Would you like to activate the D-Link System?”_

D-Link? “What does that do?”

_“Open Links currently: Ruse and Riku.”_

Ruse? Naminé can feel her eyes go wide. “Yes, connect me to Ruse please!”

_“D-Linking now.”_

At once, Naminé can feel the heart that was hidden from her. Ruse. 

Maybe it was the distance. But if Ruse was away from Castle Oblivion, a world or more away from Naminé, Naminé couldn’t feel her heart anymore. Frightening to be so alone. But now that comforting warmth was back. Thanks to the D-Link. 

She places her hand over her chest. Can’t help but smile. 

*Naminé? Is that you?* Confusion. _Ruse’s_ confusion. 

“Yes, it’s me!” Naminé’s own reflection of joy bubbles over. 

A rush of panic. Not hers, but Ruse’s. Oh no, what’s wrong? What’s happened to Ruse?

“Ruse, what happened? Are you okay?”

*I, uh, accidentally toldVexeneverythingandranintoRoxas!*

Those words...don’t make any sense. Put together that way. 

“What?”

* * *

_Day 71: A Stranger_

Fought more Heartless in Twilight Town today, so I’m pretty sure they’re not disappearing like Axel said they were. Ran into a Somebody named Ruse too. They remind me of Xion, for some reason. I don’t think I’ll end up meeting them again, though...


	23. Unforgiven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our Hero keeps on trucking, Namine hugs, Health Concerns are discussed, and more Moogle Oddness.

In the end, I do have to pick the shield up. 

I pick it up, at Riku’s nod, and we head off to Castle Oblivion together. 

My hands are shaking and breathing is difficult. Like we agreed, Riku doesn’t ask. I’m...grateful, that he doesn’t. Only leaves me be to breath and spiral. 

(Only a little bit of spiraling.)

(It’s fine.)

I’m fine. 

I give Riku a wave, once we’re back. “See you later!” Walk off. Behind me, I hear an awkward, “Good-bye?”

But he doesn’t follow me. Good. (Not that I thought he would.)

*Ruse?* Worry. Fear. Naminé, again, louder than before. Like the days when Castle Oblivion belonged to the Organization.  _ Awful.  _

I can’t leave her like that. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there soon.” I flap a hand, even though no one’s there to see it. “I’ll explain then.”

*...Alright.*

Now, to my passenger. 

_ How do you know about Ventus?  _ He demands. Always a demand. 

I swallow. “It doesn’t matter how I know.”

_ Why not? _

Why not? Why  _ not?  _ My slowly building rage tips over at that point, in the form of a shout. 

“I owe you nothing!” I pace back and forth. Screaming at the ghost in my head. “You  _ hurt  _ me. You  _ terrified  _ me. You...” My throat tries to close up. 

(Almost erased me.)

“Feel sorry? Whatever! But you still, still...it still happened. You can’t change that! You can’t change  _ me!”  _

My voice is hoarse. Dry and aching, as my hand goes to my throat. Massages it gently, feeling the raised lumps of my scar lined flesh. Reminders, of more unforgivable things. 

“Can’t change me,” I repeat, more quietly. Barely above a whisper. 

Vexen is silent. Good. I don’t think I could take it if he started talking. 

If they  _ had  _ done it, managed to erase everything that I was and am...what would be left? Would the heart meant to have this body, in its darkest depths, still think somewhere in there,  _ I am a girl _ ? 

Think  _ I am a person?  _

No. 

I sink down. Curl up with my legs rubbing up against my chest. My too flat chest. 

No. That heart wouldn’t have. Because that was Riku Replica and I’m not. I’m...not supposed to be here. 

A mistake. I know things I shouldn’t, breath when I should be dead, and it’s going to ruin  _ everything.  _ Should I tell someone everything I know, who knows how many people I can hurt. Can I even save  _ anyone  _ with what I know? Very little has changed despite me. 

Eventually, I realize, that soft crying sound...it’s coming from  _ me.  _

It’s okay, it’s okay. I have to be. 

Sniffling, I swipe at my face with my arm. 

It’ll be fine. 

I have to be. 

* * *

Ruse’s eyes are red, when she walks into the room. She’s been...crying. 

Naminé bites her lip but doesn’t say anything about that. Might chase Ruse away again, if she does. 

She just wants to help her friend. But if her friend doesn’t want it...well, she doesn’t know what to do, then. On to the subject at hand. 

“You told him everything?”

Ruse shuffles her feet. “Well...not really? I exaggerated?”

Naminé taps her fingers together. “What  _ did  _ you tell him then?”

Exact details would be best, in this case, she thinks. To figure out what to do. 

Gloved fingers reach up to tug at their purple bandana briefly. “Well, I said that I...you know what, I’m not sure I want to say right now.”

Naminé finds her eyes squinting. “Why not?”

She  _ knows  _ that Ruse doesn’t want to talk about it, but they really  _ should!  _ Especially in a case like this. 

“I don’t want to give him anything else,” Ruse says firmly. “And I don’t know if he’s listening right now.”

Hm. That might be a problem. And it’s in the way of Naminé finding out anything new from Ruse. Maybe she can...

“I can check?” Naminé offers.

“You can do that?”

“Yes.” Well, she probably can, with their renewed heart-connection. Like how Naminé had made that connection in the first place. 

Ruse visibly considers this, before nodding. “Okay. I sit down, right?”

Naminé slides off her chair on the floor, patting the floor in front of her. “Right here.”

“Got it!” A bright smile, briefly, before Ruse in turn plops down. Right in front of Naminé, back to her. Trusting her. 

Naminé lets out a breath, as she reaches out with slightly shaking hands. Pushes her fingers under the bandana, digging into soft hair. Soft hair that feels...kind of greasy. 

Put that aside, focus. Maybe the D-Link device hooked into her skirt’s waistband can help a bit, if she can’t figure it out. 

But Naminé’s done this before. It shouldn’t be too hard. Especially when the connection between them is so very strong. Strong enough to feel Ruse’s  _ pain.  _ Regret. 

Dig deeper. Where’s Vexen? Is he here? What hides in Ruse’s heart?

A shadow. 

Naminé can trace the outlines of it. It seems person-shaped but it’s...quiet, for lack of better words for it. Absent, an echo, with roots that dig deeper into Ruse’s heart. Like a basic memory chain, one foreign to Ruse herself. 

Clustered and wound tight. Almost hiding. 

Clearly not shallow enough in Ruse’s heart to be listening to their words, if it’s something that can hear and understand. 

“We’re okay.” Naminé withdraws her hands from Ruse’s hair, from her heart. 

Ruse lets out a shuddering sigh, one that shakes her entire body. “Good.”

A pause as Ruse simply breathes. In and out. In and out. 

Naminé waits. Tapping her fingers against her thighs. 

“The things that I know...I mentioned a name. A name that Vexen knew, that I shouldn’t know, but I know anyway.”

Ah. Naminé hums. Not as bad as she thought, of the bad situations she considered when Marluxia and Larxene were still around, on what Naminé would have to give up to save Ruse’s life. Still something that Ruse would worry about. 

For how playful she acts sometimes, there’s no hiding the constant worry in Ruse’s heart. Worry that Naminé thinks she would feel all the time too, if she had a heart. Easy to mimic fear, too easy. 

Even with the Organization gone, Naminé still has times when her physical heart picks up at a sudden movement in the corner of her eye, a loud noise. It shouldn’t be like that. They’re gone, so she shouldn’t be able to fake fear anymore. 

But it still happens. 

Like Ruse slowly breathing in and out, back to Naminé, so she won’t start crying. 

“What was the name?” Does Naminé know this name?

“Ventus.”

Ventus. Ventus. That shouldn’t mean much. Yet it’s familiar, a warmth in her chest at its mention.

“I was talking about him, because Sora’s Nobody looks like him,” Ruse adds. 

Naminé frowns. “Really? He does?” Not like Sora? Nobodies are supposed to look like their Somebodies, she’s heard. Which is strange, since Naminé doesn’t think she looks very much like Kairi at all. According to Sora’s memories, at least. 

Ruse stretches out her legs, shrugging. Her fingers trace along her legs, her pants. “Kinda like how you don’t look like Kairi. Too blond. Both of you are blond like Ventus. Isn’t that weird?”

“That is strange,” Naminé agrees. “Do you know why that is?”

Ruse’s fingers pause in their strokes. “Do you really want to know that? Now?”

Naminé can’t help but frown in response. The way she says that, asks that question...

What lies in the answer?

What does Ruse know?

Naminé can have only one answer. After Ruse has insisted on saying nothing, now that the offer is there... “Tell me. Please.”

A whistling breath. “Hooo boy. Yeah, I’ll tell you. It’s a mess, though.”

“What isn’t a mess?” Sora’s memories, Ruse looking exactly like Riku, the Organization, DiZ, everything is very messy. Would be odder if this knowledge wasn’t messy in turn. 

A choked laugh, as Ruse slaps her knee. “Ha! Yeah, that’s right, everything’s a mess in this. What isn’t a mess, heck...”

More quiet, huffing laughter. Naminé waits, and doesn’t poke Ruse in the shoulderblades. Though she really really wants to. 

“Well, Ventus...his heart was in Sora’s.”

What? “What?” Naminé shakes her head. “I didn’t see any other hearts with Sora’s.” Just countless connections upon countless connections, stretching out between so many worlds. Worlds that Naminé has never gotten the chance to see in person. 

(But she would like to. One day.)

“That makes sense, since Roxas looks exactly like Ventus.”

Wait. Naminé blinks. “Are you saying...?”

“Roxas has Ventus’ heart possibly? Yeah.”

But that’s...messy. Messy, just like Ruse agreed. 

“What do you think we should do?” Ruse asks. Turning to face Naminé, her indigo eyes bright with...something. Fear? Hope? 

What? “You’re asking me?” You know more! Ruse has always known more. 

“Need more heads on this one, don’t wanna screw up,” Ruse mutters. 

“Oh.” Naminé swallows. “Can I take some time to think about it?”

The relief that rushes through Naminé at Ruse’s nod is unexpected, but maybe it shouldn’t be. It’s  _ good _ that Ruse wants her help. 

(She’s not useless!)

Ruse trembles. “...Can I have a hug?” Her question is almost too quiet to hear.

Naminé nods fervently. “Yes! Of course!”

She reaches out, wraps around Ruse with her entire body, as Ruse reaches back. 

The hug is very warm, tight around her middle. She hugs Ruse back, even tighter. 

Naminé never wants to let go again. 

* * *

The Guide hisses and the programs shiver. Shiver and shake, reshaping themselves into new calculations.

The heart of the Apprentice Ventus...may be with the Nobody of Apprentice Sora. 

_ That  _ is why the Prototype wanted the Guide of Departure to promise to find another way, that won’t destroy the Nobody. She  _ knew.  _

Fingers tap against the throne. Reach out to touch Apprentice Ventus’ cheek. Cool, lifeless. Nothing without its owning heart. 

Is the Prototype Ruse right to fear?

But the Master-!

The Guide spreads their hands, brings up the codes and assemblings created by Modification Naminé. Methods to consider, paths to take. Find the Nobody, perhaps find the heart. From there...

Do what the Master commands.  _ Protect Apprentice Ventus.  _

“I will reunite the heart with the body.”

No matter what. 

* * *

DiZ is a man that Mickey feels like he should know. 

He’s never been very good with either human faces or voices. It doesn’t help that DiZ is insistent on hiding his face as well, but there’s something familiar about DiZ. 

But from where?

The man in question lets out an explosive sigh from where he’s peering at his work. 

“I’ve been spending too much time on the replica.”

Mickey frowns. “Too much time? That’s not a bad thing, ya know.” He spread his hands. “Especially if you’re helping someone else.”

“Perhaps.” The word comes out in a tone of voice that Mickey  _ knows _ means that the man disagrees. “But I have spent too much time for the amount of information I have gotten from it.”

“Which is...?” Mickey prompts.

The man only shakes his head, before getting into it. 

“Almost nothing. I don’t even know if replicas will  _ age _ !” DiZ puts up his hands in slowly boiling over frustration.

“Are you sure they just don’t age differently?” Disnians, after all, didn’t change as much as humans did over a decade. And Moogles, as far as Mickey knew, didn’t visibly age at all. 

“No, because I do not have any baseline for the sort of beings replicas are supposed to be. It’s like he just looked at the  _ interesting  _ qualities of every race and smashed them together!”

Hm. That would be...a problem that would bother someone. Especially someone as set on facts as DiZ appears to be. 

“Whatcha know for sure then?” Hopefully that will calm him down. 

DiZ turns to his computer screen and brings up a couple of pictures. Of what looks like a collection of black vines in the shape of two people. Riku and Ruse. 

“She burns through energy much faster than either Riku or Naminé do. And her physical make-up, compared to theirs...something is missing.”

DiZ shakes his head. “At this rate...she might starve. This Castle does not have enough food to keep her at healthy standards, and the food we have is not high enough in either calories  _ or  _ nutrients to keep up.”

A hum. 

“Perhaps that is why she goes through so much  _ sugary  _ food...”

“Maybe the Moogles can help,” Mickey suggests. Interrupting the man’s thoughts before they can get too off track. Need to fix the problem, not go down more rabbit holes. 

DiZ’s orange eyes narrow. “The Moogles?”

Mickey puts his hand up to his chin. “Yeah, they seemed interested in her.”

“How unusual.” That wasn’t wrong. Moogles, as far as Mickey knew, didn’t show much interest in anything outside their people excepting synthesizing for possible customers. They had even turned down invitations to Disney Town in the past. 

(Not they needed them. Always somehow got in despite lack of invitation.) 

To show that much interest in talking to someone not their kind, to  _ help in travel between the worlds _ ...well, that meant something. 

Something that could change a lot, if Mickey could only figure out what it meant. There are so many pieces that need to be tracked, to be figured out. 

About the Organization, about the lost Keyblade Wielders, about...everything. 

Too many questions, not enough time. 

Maybe there’s a way to answer at least a few. And try to fix Ruse’s problem at the same time. 

“I’ll take her with me to Hollow Bastion,” Mickey decides. 

DiZ freezes in place. “That world, of all places?”

Hm. “The Moogles live  _ there,” _ Mickey points out, eyes narrowing. What does DiZ not like about Hollow Bastion?

“Of course.” Composure regained, DiZ smooths down his tunic. “Perhaps you should take Ruse now. Before she wanders off  _ again...” _

“As soon as I see her,” Mickey agrees. 

* * *

“So why are we here at Hollow Bastion again?” Also, why is Mickey of all people taking me there? Not that I’m going to be asking the mouse in question that. 

“We’re here to see the Moogles,” is his answer. 

I blink. “Ooo-kay? For what?”

Some solid answers would be nice. All I’ve gotten so far is walking in on DiZ and Mickey having a serious sounding discussion and then having  _ DiZ  _ announce to me I’m going to Hollow Bastion with Mouse King. 

Weird as hell. 

My stomach growls. Time for another granola bar!

Chomp chomp. Fight back the hunger for another day. Mickey is very intently watching me while I eat, for some reason. 

Weird...

“Yeah?” I speak through the crunches. 

“Does that...fill you up?”

Hm. Does it? I think about the question, very seriously. Finish up the food. 

“Hm, not really?” Huh. I’m pretty much hungry all the time, now that I think about it. What a strange realization to have. “I’m usually pretty hungry.”

“I see.”

Mickey puts his gloved hand on his chin. Is it gloved? Or do his hands just naturally look that? Weird thoughts, for another day.

“What does that have to do with Moogles?”

“You’re...not getting enough, DiZ says. Nutrients.” Mickey clarifies before I have to ask more on that. 

“Oh?” I blink. “And the Moogles will fix that how?”

Mickey almost shuffles his feet, glancing from me to the door to the Moogle House and then back to me again. 

“Well, they don’t usually give Synthesis materials to people getting a meal from them.”

Ah. I can’t help but smile. I think I know where this is going. 

“And since the Moogles tried to give me rocks to eat, you want to check that out, huh?”

“...Yes.” Mickey looks so down and almost upset by that realization, it’s hilarious. Probably sacrilegious, though, to think that about Disney’s greatest mascot. 

“So I should try eating Synthesis materials?” I check. Just want to be sure on this! I’m totally gonna get Riku with this...hehehe. 

Mickey’s face screws up. Actually moves in something not a smile, unlike his KH3 animation. (Hey, I can be bitter if I want!)

“I’ll talk to the Moogles about that.”

“That wasn’t a no.”

“You can ask,” Mickey says, “But we should find more out before you start eating Synthesis materials.”

I grin. “Got it!”

The Mouse King nods to me and pushes open the door to the Moogle House. 

Inside, there are two Moogles. Mickey goes to the other, by the microwave Synthesis machine. Probably Mog, still. 

And the other, just bobbing about...

Oh! I  _ know  _ that Moogle, that smells of the damp Underworld!

“Mosh, you’re here!”

“Kupo, of course I am.” Remarkably straightforward. It’s nice. 

“Will I see you in the Underworld again?”

Mosh’s pom-pom bobbles as he nods. “Yes. Soon, kupo.”

I bounce in place, grinning. “Sweet! I need Potions for fighting!”

Mosh jerks, wings flicking furiously. “You’re  _ fighting?” _

I shrug. “Yeah, not much else, you know? Need to get stronger.”

Hm.

“What do you need to synthesize a Potion, anyway?” To know for the future, of course. 

“Two Power Shards, a Lucid Shard, and a Blazing Shard,” Mosh answers right away, like he’s got it memorized. “Kupo.”

Huh.

“Okay then. So I bring you those, I’ll get Potions in exchange?”

“That is how it generally works, kupo.”

“Hm.” I tap my fingers against my chin. “Do I need to pay you?”

“The synthesis materials are enough.” Mosh pats his paws together. 

Hm. Nice to know that matches the games too. But how do the Moogles get paid then? There has to be something going on with that. With my experience, people don’t tend to do things for free. Unless they’re friends or something. 

Oh yeah, question. While Mickey’s busy...

“Hey, do you know anything about...eating Synthesis materials? In a way that won’t break my teeth?”

A moment of silence, as Mosh thinks my question through. 

“You should talk to Elmina,” Mosh says firmly. 

Elmina? I wrinkle my nose a little. Don’t know who that is. “Who?”

A wingtip flicks out to point towards...a small path? Leading downward. “She’s a Moogle. Usually by the memorial.”

Memorial...I swallow. “For the lost Moogles?”

Two plush paws press together in the front. “Yes. Go find her and ask about what you can do. She knows the most about hu-mans and fey, kupo.”

I tap my chin. Get answers that way? Sure, why not. “I’ll try it out then. Thanks.”

Mosh doesn’t answer as I turn to walk towards the small path. But that’s alright, he seems a quiet guy. Er. Moogle. Guy should be fine, right?

Probably. 

Kinda terrifying, this path. Feels like I’m both on the edge of the world and going into the center of the Earth, as I walk down it. 

Surrounded by purple rock. The deeper I go, the more shiny the rock gets. More like crystal. Still really dark, and not very reflective...but still. Crystal. 

Something about this place...I can feel my chest hum. Hum and buzz. A magic almost, one I can’t touch or control. 

_ Watching  _ me. 

Next to what looks like a tunnel mouth, leading deeper into the earth of __, um,  _ Hollow Bastion _ ...

There’s an obelisk. Small. About my height, really. It’s wrapped in strings of beads, beads that look like they’re made from synthesis materials, from what I can tell of those familiar colors. 

Above, my eyes catch a glimpse of something glittering. Reflecting. Lifting my eyes, I see green glass droplets hanging from string. Clicking together gently in something almost like music. Windchimes. 

A Moogle floats in front of the entire setup, looking at the ground. Almost in a gesture like prayer. This must be Elmina.

Hate to interrupt, but I don’t know how long she’s going to take. And I have a feeling that Mosh wants me to talk to her sooner rather than later. My fingers scratch at my cheek. 

I clear my throat. 

“Hello?”

* * *

Elmina has always been odd. 

Even for a Moogle. 

Mojito claims she must have had too many Brights in her crafting, to make her so actively curious about non-Moogles, but everyone knows Mojito is full of fluff and spends far too much time in the heat of Agrabah. 

Besides, he’s sooo boring that he must be forged entirely of Dense. 

There are questions that need to be asked, need to be figured out, for Moogles to move past the Fall. At least Mog and most of the other Moogles understand that. 

For the clan to ever prosper again...mysteries must be solved. 

But before she investigates further...she needs to mourn. To remember those whose names are lost to her now, like the name of this world, her lovers who deserve better than that swollen nothingness eating them up. Non-Moogle they were, no one deserves to be so forgotten. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers to the lonely monument. A small pillar, carved of the cavern stone. Wrapped in at least four feet’s worth of beads. A bead for each lost Moogle. 

Thirteen Moogles left now, out of dozens and dozens. Out of an entire neighborhood full.  _ Several  _ neighborhoods. 

She lets out a breath. And no way for there to be more, with the missing Recipe. 

Wind-hummers, made of Remembrance Shards, carefully hung and tended, jingle in the light breezes blowing from the caves below. From Remembrance. As long as the winds blow, they say, as long as they cause the crystals to sing, the heart of the world will never forget the nameless dead. 

Even if all others do. 

“Hello?” A new voice pipes up behind her, one that sounds very human. 

Elmina turns to face...a child. Human-looking, at least, even though their heart hums as clearly as a Moogle’s instead of the complicated beautiful messes of both Fey and Humans alike. 

Ah. This must be Ruse, the strange human that Mosh had been talking about. 

Ruse shuffles their feet. “Um, uh, what are you doing?”

“I’m remembering the dead,” Elmina explains. “Are you here to leave an offering?”

“Ah, no, Mosh just said I should talk to you for some reason...?” One gloved hand goes up to scratch at scars on that young face. 

Too young, if Elmina recalls what she knows of human aging properly, to have such had and recovered from such injuries. A lot has changed, since the Fall. Very little of it for the better. 

“Did he say why?”

Ruse scratches at their face again. 

“Well, you know the most about...not Moogles, he said. And I need to figure...food stuff?” A firm nod. “Yeah, food stuff. Do Moogles need to eat a lot too? What do you do?”

Elmina hums and pauses to take a better look at Ruse. There is that strange heart, for sure, but what else could lead Mosh to ask such a thing?

Mosh didn’t tell non-Moogles  _ anything.  _ Or let them ask such questions in the first place. 

Did that make Ruse a Moogle? Surely the Recipe would make a Moogle Moogle-shaped like it always did? The whole Recipe had to, at least. 

Something else had to be mixed in, to make a... “Ruse.” A Ruse. Hm. How interesting. 

“Are you sure you aren’t Fey? That is an especially Fey name you have.”

Ruse sputters. “What? I  _ picked it _ , no one gave it to me! Of course not!”

Now, that sounds even  _ more  _ Fey (or Moogle) to Elmina, but the child seems offended by the idea, so she’ll drop it. For now. Maybe she’ll bring it up with Mosh and the rest of the clan later, if they’re still stuck on this. 

Elmina hums again. About the food...her lovers had always turned down eating raw Synthesis materials (citing something about their teeth). But there were other ways that Elmina had gotten around that, that they had accepted. 

“You can crush them up and mix them in drinks.” Several excellent alcoholic drinks were made that way, in fact...

“Wait, I can make  _ protein shakes _ ? With rock dust?”

Elmina tilts her pom-pom. A protein shake? Whatever it is, it appeared to mean something to Ruse. Smiling and laughing to themselves, a bit. “Of course it would be protein shakes, that’s hilarious. Riku is going to  _ die  _ when I tell him.”

“Don’t kill him, then,” Elmina says. 

Ruse laughs again. “Nah, it’s a figure of speech.”

Hm. Oh, those are funny. One of her lovers used them all the time. (Why is it so hard to remember? Why can’t she remember their names?)

“Aha! Treasure!”

Oh  _ no.  _ They’re  _ back.  _

Ruse frowns, scars twisting. “What?”

Three fairies twirl and spin through the air. Snatching the wind-hummers. “Yoink!”

“Ours now!”

“Can’t stop us!”

Just as quickly as they appeared, they flutter off on their partially visible wings. Elmina sighs to herself, already resigned to making  _ more  _ wind-hummers. 

They’ve gone through at least six at this point. 

What will make them sto-

“Wait a sec! I’ll get ‘em!”

Before Elmina can do anything,  _ say  _ anything, Ruse runs through the tunnel mouth. After the three fairies, which are going deeper. Into the Cavern of Remembrance. Which are right now, full of powerful and extremely hostile Heartless. 

There is only one thing Elmina can  _ really  _ say, in response to this new development. 

“Mosh may be unhappy with this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone can get too concerned about Xion (since she is a Replica as well), she's actually better off than Ruse in the health department. Just needs to eat, honestly. But everyone in the Organization could eat more.


	24. Unfairly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are Fey, wizards, Moogles, and a blink-and-you'll-miss-it Leon. 
> 
> The Caverns are important to Remember. Spoilers!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I have some awesome art of Ruse and Namine from OragamiArrows. Thanks a ton!  
> https://paperbulletsoragamiarrows.tumblr.com/post/618013506691842048/fan-art-of-a-fanfic-im-reading-not-my-best-work

I realize my mistake approximately two seconds after diving into the deeper caves. Purple rock everywhere, shimmery. Glimpses of green-eyed reflections follow me everywhere in that strange rock, as do the Heartless. The  _ nasty, extremely painful  _ Heartless. 

Something about this place itches at my brain, the Cavern of Remembrance, what was that...in... I frown. 

Kingdom Hearts II, the Final Remix. The part I never finished because of the...stupidly powerful Heartless at the time of discovery and then forgetting about it in the endgame portion. Know  _ of  _ it, yes. Never played entirely through the place myself. 

Ah. I’m underleveled, aren’t I? In the figurative sense of the term, I don’t actually think leveling up with experience points exists in my current reality. 

That explains a lot. Oops. Try not to die, I guess. Just like the arena, I can do this. I can  _ do this.  _ Dodge, keep moving, don’t stop. I’m awfully fast, quicker than I expected. 

_ What are you doing!? _

I can’t help but laugh, while dodging canonfire. “Your timing is  _ awful,  _ Vexen.”

_ It is difficult to have good timing when you are so insistent on getting yourself into trouble.  _

Pissy. Again. Okay, I can deal with that. Like I’m dealing with the Heartless (er,  _ not  _ dealing with them?). Being high off of narrowly avoiding death can only help. 

Climb, climb, climb! Away from the Heartless who do their vanishing act once I’m out of range.  _ Apparent  _ range, at least. 

They’re not shooting anymore at me. That’s the important bit. 

_ You should leave.  _

And Vexen is still talking to me. You’d think that me yelling at him earlier would have served as a big enough hint. Whatever. I don’t really want to fight him right now. Maybe later. After I finish what I came here for. 

“But I need to get those crystals back for the Moogles!” My eyes sweep the area, looking for that flicker of movement, of fairies flying around. Where could they be?

...Maybe not here anymore?

_ Look over there.  _ Vexen sounds completely exasperated with me. Like he has any right to be. More importantly...

“You don’t have hands,” I point out. “Which over there?”

... _ Off to the side of that door overlooking the cave.  _

“Oh, I see!” Right...there. A shiny patch. Straight across the whole cavern. I can get over there. Probably. If I’m careful. 

It’s not too hard. No Heartless pop out, thankfully. 

I poke at the shiny patch and my hand goes right through. The scar on my face itches as my eyes widen. An illusion! But...anyone could make an illusion. It doesn’t have to be the fairies. 

“Why are you so sure that the fairies are behind this?” I gesture to the glowly patchy, the illusion that’s got a hideaway somewhere behind it, I’m sure. 

_ Only Fey and Fey-blooded use Wind and Illusion magic.  _ Vexen states. Sounding a tiny bit scornful? Excuse me, I don’t know  _ anything  _ about Hollow Bastion land!

I frown. Illusion, huh. And Wind? “Was Zexion Fey? Or anyone else?”

_...No. He came from a long line of Fey-blooded. And...another was half Fey.  _ Vexen says no more on the subject. Not even a sigh. Guess he doesn’t want to chat anymore about that. 

Despite the super tiny-ness of the hole (more proof that fairies are involved, I guess), I somehow manage to squeeze through. Works out, since I can fit my head through. Really really tight, it’s a good thing I don’t have claustrophobia or anything like that. Be more difficult that way. Squish squish. Do my bones go crunch?

...My bones do not go crunch. Thankfully.

Pop out on the other side into a rocky, crystal-filled tunnel. Where there are three tiny people with wings floating in the middle of it. 

“Aha!” I point all dramatically. 

“Oh no!”

“Someone found us!”

“Go away!”

Paine, Rikku, Yuna. If I’m remembering those names correctly. All speaking at once. 

“Not until I get those windchimes back.” I hold out my hand. “Cough it up.”

The three all exchange glances. The brown-haired one in blue and no visible wings, Yuna, speaks up first. “Only if you do something for us first.”

“Hm.” Consider that. Do an exchange, a fetch quest thing? 

_ Don’t do anything.  _

Okay, that means I’m  _ definitely  _ helping out. I shrug. “Sure. Whatcha want?”

Three pairs of eyes widen. Oh, guess that was a surprise for them. No one wants to help them out, maybe? That would be...sad. 

Rikku musters up her courage, leaning towards me all dramatic like in the air. “Get a magic book for us!”

I lift an eyebrow. “Okay...” Seems simple enough. A magic book, now where is it?

“From the wizard,” Paine states, eyes glaring at me. Daring me. 

I nod. Then freeze. 

“Wait, we’re stealing from a  _ wizard!?” _

There’s only one wizard that I know of for certain, in Hollow Bastion. And I  _ really  _ don’t want to steal from that guy. Nor say his name out loud. Just in case. 

Don’t say his name, I have no idea how far  _ this _ wizard’s powers go. But generally speaking, stealing from wizards is usually a bad idea. 

“Yep!” Rikku chirps. 

Yuna nods with a smile while Paine just heaves out a huge sigh, very clearly Not Looking at me. 

Darn fairies. 

...But I kinda want to do it. To say I did, sort of. And this wizard probably won’t kill me if he catches me. Nice wizard and all that. 

“Um, and after I get this magic book? Then what?”

“Bring it back,” Paine says simply. 

“Oh right. So...” I clap my hands together. “Where do I start?”

* * *

Leon’s on patrol with Yuffie when he sees the kid. 

A kid, with silver hair. Like that...one guy. The Fey whose name if you mention, Cloud will get fairly upset about. WIth scars all over their face. New kid, one that Leon’s never seen before. So possibly not a refugee? Or a refugee that Leon simply hasn’t met yet. As rare as that is, it  _ does  _ happen. Once in a blue moon. 

The kid is holding a rock. And looking at Merlin’s house. 

Leon frowns, walking slowly in the kid’s direction. 

Yuffie grabs his shoulder, pulling him back. “No, shh, I wanna see this happen, Squall!”

Leon’s frown grows more severe. “ _ Leon.”  _

Squall is dead. His name is gone and there’s only Leon left. That’s how it works, everyone  _ knows that.  _

Yuffie only rolls her eyes. “Whatever. C’mon, wait a bit!”

“Fine.”

Before their eyes, the kid... _ throws the rock.  _ Through  _ Merlin’s window.  _ And the small child dives through that same window after it, breaking the window shutters in the process. Well,  _ further.  _ Like the rock had. 

Leon blinks.  _ What.  _ That’s, that’s...against the law! And Yuffie shouldn’t be giggling about it, next to him, like she is. 

Before he can do anything, the child is out of the window. Quickly running through the street,  _ somersaulting  _ down the street. 

With a package under their arm. 

What. 

What...what does he  _ do?  _

“Uh, should someone tell Merlin?”

Yuffie waves a hand, grinning. “Nah, I bet he’s got this handled.”

* * *

After much rolling, missing the illusion hidden passage  _ twice _ , I’m finally back. Ready to reveal my stolen goods, the wrapped up package that I grabbed for the virtue of being vaguely magical looking and the closest to the window I had entered through. 

Vexen’s huffing in the background. 

I ignore him in favor of presenting the package to the fairies. “Got something!”

“Oooh,” Yuna says, her eyes glowing. The air behind her back is  _ glowing,  _ looking somewhat wing-shaped. She does have wings? “That’s  _ definitely  _ really magical.”

“Open it, open it, open it!” Rikku chants. 

I smile. And carefully do so, pulling back the leathery wrappings. 

Rikku flits to somewhere right above my shoulder, squinting at the newly unwrapped object.

“Aw, it’s just a kid’s book.”

“Maybe it’s a magic kid’s book?”

“All wizard books are magic books. Even the kiddy ones.”

Some serious discussion breaks out, slowly edging towards a possible fight. 

As for me, I’m too busy staring in horror at the book I’ve just unwrapped, sitting on the nasty dirty ground. 

Holy crap. 

That cover...

“I need to put this back. Pronto.”

Look, I am fully aware that I am screwing up the possibility of Kingdom Hearts II of ever happening with my very presence. But I don’t need to make things worse than they already are, for that possibility!

Especially with  _ this  _ book. 

Its cover is a soft leather, stained and worn. The pages, what I can make of them without opening the book, appear to have been torn at some point yet somehow carefully are now fitted back together. On the front, there is a picture of a yellow bear on a log. A bear that used to be one of my favorite characters as a kid. 

Winnie the Pooh. 

Yeah, this needs to go back to the wizard. I carefully wrap the book up again, before I give into the temptation to open it. Look at the trio of fairies hovering just above my head. 

“Look, I can get a  _ better  _ book. What kind of book are you looking for anyway?”

“Lots of spells!” Rikku spins. 

“Lots of magic!” Yuna puts up her arms. 

Paine shifts her chin in their direction. “What they said.”

I tap my chin. 

Hm. That’s rather...general. Why do I have the feeling they aren’t telling me everything?

Which is fine. Really. We aren’t friends or anything. Just would be nice to know what to steal from a wizard so I don’t have to go back. Like I’m offering to do now.

...Man, I’m an idiot.

_ Just leave them behind.  _ Vexen advises. As always, I ignore him. 

I sigh, shoulders lowering. “Yeah...just give me a sec.”

* * *

_ This is a terrible idea.  _

“Less judging my poor choices and more shutting up please,” I hiss. Annoying. I peer around the corner at the wizard house. The front window’s still broken. Good. He’s not home yet. 

So, just sneak in, drop off the Winnie the Pooh book, grab a spellbook instead. Easy. It’ll be fine. No one’s around, which is good. 

I sneak across the open area, trying to keep to the shadows wherever I can. 

_ Too easy.  _ Vexen warns. 

I huff. Quietly. “Sure, whatever.”

Search the room. Now where was that chest that I got Winnie the Pooh from? Oh, right just over the-

“Ah, you’re back.”

The wizard is sitting there. In his chair. Sipping at his cup of tea, watching me over his half moon glasses. Somehow there, though I could have sworn he wasn’t, just a few moments ago when I first came in here. 

Like I didn’t just break into his house to steal from him and then broke back in to put the Pooh book back. With plans to take another book instead. 

Uh. I feel bad?

“Sorry?” I hazard. 

“Ah, an apology! That’s rather refreshing.” Merlin smiles. Watching me. His eyes are too bright. Almost terrifyingly so. 

I search for a conversation point. Anything other than the book I just stole and plan to return, the other books that I am  _ here  _ to steal. 

“Um, why do you have a Save Point in your house?”

Merlin hums, tapping his long fingers against his teacup. 

“Now, did I stay here because of the Safe Point, or did the Safe Point come here because of me?”

I stare at the wizard. “...You’re making my head hurt.”

A wink at me, through those spectacles. “Now, now, think it through, my friend. It might help you out later, to think possible answers through.”

What. What?

What’s  _ that  _ supposed to mean? ...This is why you don’t talk to wizards. Bad idea. Gets super confusing super fast. And I still have the book I stole. 

“Sorry about all of this.” I wave the book around. “I can just...leave.” Make to stand up, before Merlin shakes his head at me. 

“No, no, Ruse, it’s fine. Stay a little longer for a chat.”

I frown. “...I didn’t tell you my name.” Squint at him, this mysterious old man in blue robes that smell of dust. “Did your wizardry know-how tell you?”

A long sip of that tea. “In a way, my dear girl.”

Somehow, that old person endearment is immensely comforting. He  _ sees  _ me. Knows who I am, even if everyone else struggles. 

Something rubs against my legs. There’s a stool. Moving. Poking me. Wanting me to sit on it, I guess. 

“Alright.” I sit down, the squishy stool creaking under my weight. Vibrating. 

_ Be careful.  _ Vexen hisses. 

In front of me, Merlin tilts his head. Like he can hear something. He sticks a pinky in his ear. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Um, it doesn’t matter.” I bare my teeth in an attempt to smile. “What do you want to talk to me about? The book? I said I was sorry about that.”

“Never mind the book, Ruse.” Merlin waves a bony hand at me. “Here, have some tea.” Something nudges at my ankle. I look down to see a teapot with four legs poking at me. There’s a cup in my hands. How did it get there? Um.

My scar itches, begging me to scratch it. I lower my hand instead (with cup in it) towards the teapot. The little thing lets out a squeal of steam before quickly filling my cup with a purply liquid. It’s warm, heating up my hands right through my Dark Suit. 

“What is it?” I sniff the strange liquid. Smells...hm. I don’t know, reminds me of...just the barest of images, memories jumping in and then jumping back out of reach. 

There’s a hole in me, I suddenly realize. Something is missing but I don’t know what. 

“Fleeting Tea,” Merlin explains, stirring his own tea with a tiny spoon. Or is the tiny spoon stirring itself? “It’ll do you a world of good and serves a good treat for myself.”

Fleeting?

Peer a little closer and there’s shimmers in the tea. Glowy sparkles. But it can’t be any worse than having a synthesis protein shake like Mosh brought up. 

I sip it carefully and it’s...the  _ best thing I’ve tasted.  _ A spicy sweetness that’s gone as quickly as it appeared on my tongue. Before I even know it, the cup is empty, my tongue licking the bottom. I’m...warm. Warm in my core, my gut.

Feeling.. _ full.  _ Well, fuller than before. Filled in a way the multitude of granola bars never managed to ever reach. 

“Whoa,” I breathe. “What’s in  _ this?” _

Merlin’s looking at me again, over his half moon glasses and sipping at his own tea. He seems...sad, somehow. 

“Tell the Moogles, you take after Charity’s line. They won’t have  _ quite  _ what you need, but what they can provide should serve as a decent stop gap until you go back.”

I frown. Charity? Who’s Charity? And go back? “What?”

Another nudge at my ankle. The teapot pushes against me, seemingly sensing I’ve finished my tea. “Uh?” I glance back at Merlin.

He nods. “Go ahead, dear girl, have as much as you’d like.”

Okay, this is pretty confusing. But more of this Fleeting Tea, sure, I’ll go for it. At least Vexen’s been quiet. Gives me space to enjoy my drink and thoughts without him butting in. 

After another gulp of this warming, energizing tea, I’ve built up enough fortitude to confront the big question. Shuffle my feet, go for it. 

“Why...are you being so nice? I’m  _ stealing  _ from you.”

Merlin considers my question seriously, sipping at his tea. “Because they will refuse help if I give it.”

I blink. “What, the fairies?”

He nods again, long beard poofing a bit as he does so. “The Fey are proud. Should I offer my assistance, they’ll say no, of course.”

“So you let them steal from you,” I finish the thought. Sit back, consider it. Huh. Pride like that is an alien form of thought for myself, mostly, but I can see how that might play a role. “Yu-”

“Ssshhhh!” Merlin interrupts. “Don’t mention any names, that’ll get their attention.”

“What?”

“Names, for the Fey-” Merlin starts to explain, gesturing wildly, “-are important.  _ Very  _ important. Say their name and they’ll hear it, no matter how far.”

I lick at my cup, for lack of anything else to say. That’s...kinda crazy. Weird. Like Voldemort in the last Harry Potter book, with the names. Yet, with the Fey...

“But even trying to help them doesn’t explain, why the tea?” Why care about the thief so much, if it’s only the Fey that are important here? No, something else is up. I can  _ feel  _ it. 

Merlin taps his fingers against his teacup. “Is it hard to believe that an old man like myself might want to share a cuppa, every blue moon or so?”

I squint at him. “There’s plenty of people you could do that with,” I say dryly. “What’s the  _ real  _ reason?”

A long noisy sip. “That, my dear, would be spoilers.”

...did he just say spoilers? Like that’s a serious concern here? My face scrunches up. Merlin merely smiles. 

“...When will that not be a problem?” My question comes slowly, as I set my teacup aside. Watch it skitter off, into the unknown of this chaotic household. 

“hm. “ Merlin shrugs. “Months. Possibly. Maybe a year or two?”

That’s great. Maybe I shouldn’t be here anymore. 

“Um, I should leave.” 

Merlin flicks his fingers at a pile of books. 

“Take this one. It might be able to help.” A small book, with a red leather cover, floats over onto my lap. Where I have no choice but to accept it. The spellbook tingles to the touch. “Er, thanks? Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Just be sure to come back and tell me everything!” Merlin flings out his hands all dramatically. “Best way to keep this loop stable!”

“Er, okay, I’ll do that.” I tap my chin. “Will there be more tea?”

“Of course!”

“Then I’ll  _ definitely  _ be back.” I smile and nod. If not only for these supposed “spoilers.” Wave with my free hand, other arm clenching the spellbook tight to my chest. “See you then.”

“Farewell!”

Now, to get this book to the fairies...hm. 

How do I do that? Oh yeah,  _ carefully.  _

* * *

“You  _ lost  _ them?” Mosh considers, quite seriously, whacking Elmina with one of his wings. 

“They ran after the fairies!” Elmina protests. “Faster than any Moglet.”

That’s...fair. Ruse does have longer legs, after all. Mosh lets out air. Almost too much of it, he’s starting to drift downwards. Wings not quite enough to hold him up, at this rate. “That King will be upset,” he points out. The Mouse King that came with Ruse, was  _ talking with Mog about them _ , yes, he would be very upset indeed. 

Elmina’s wings flick back and forth. “The Fey won’t hurt them. Ruse will be back soon.” The words come out more like a hope, than a promise. 

Mosh, again, considers a gentle whack. 

But he doesn’t have to, with a voice that rises on the wind. 

“Hey, I’m back!”

Mosh’s and Elmina’s pom-poms go up immediately. Taking in the familiar hum. 

Ruse, running over. Holding up some...wind-hummers. “Got ‘em for you!”

Elmina heaves a sigh of relief, her entire body deflating. 

Mosh decides he’ll get mad at her later. More important to handle Ruse now. 

“You didn’t have to get the,” Elmina says quietly, even as she accepts the offering. 

That toothed mouth curls into a wide smile. “Wanted to help, that’s all.”

“Where were you?” Mosh demands, floating up to Ruse. 

They scratch at their head. “Just...talking to Merlin. He was telling me some things. That’s all.” 

Hm. Something’s missing from that. But more importantly...

The Merlin! One of the few hu-mans clever enough to synthesize like a Moogle can. Returned at last, it appears, and his wisdom is too useful to ignore. 

“What did he tell you?”

Ruse’s face scrunches up. “Something about...I’m of Charity’s line?”

_ Charity’s  _ line. 

“That’s what he said? Exactly?” Mosh presses. 

A nod. “Yep.”

Mosh rubs his paws together. Thinking. 

Charity and the Man Of Mystery...but that’s just a fairytale. An old one, one of the oldest among Moogles. Yet that story must mean something. Why else would the Merlin mention it, tell Ruse to speak of it?

“What was he talking about?” Ruse interrupts his thoughts, tapping their foot against the ground, hands on their hips. Their cleverly constructed heart buzzes with impatience strongly. Very well. Mosh will tell them. 

“A story about...” Mosh searches his memory. He hasn’t told Moglet stories in  _ years.  _ His own heart feels a stab of pain. They’re gone now, those Moglets. Gone with no way for there ever to be more. 

Only this strange child, far too hu-man looking for what pulses inside. 

Well, if he’s going to tell a tale, Mosh might as well start it right. 

“Ruse! We need to go now.” The Mouse King. Of course an interruption. Where else would one fit in?

Mosh lets out a sigh. 

Ruse’s eyes widen. “Oh! Whatcha you got then?”

The Mouse King shrugs, slightly. “I’ll let you know, back at the Castle.”

Ah. Secrets. Silly king, doesn’t he know that no secrets keep, around Moogles? But before they leave, one last piece of advice. 

“If you are of Charity’s line...have Dark elements,” Mosh advises. “That will serve your health the best.”

“Oh, thank you!” Ruse is bright. Far too bright, for the Darkness that stirs inside of them. “See you at the Underworld?”

Mosh agrees, “I will see you there.” His duties are nearly complete here, and he needs to sell more. Keep an eye on Ruse. Perhaps ask the other Moogles if they have any last Figments to offer her, to feed her. 

He can do this. 

* * *

It’s a real pain, to have the fate of your people resting on your shoulders. Being among the last Fey awake has its burdens.

Rikku pokes at Paine and Paine pokes back. Just like they always do. Flying about, flinging themselves into the wind. 

Yuna...she bites her lip and turns a page. Looking away from the scene. Though it looks so much  _ fun... _ she can’t join in. Not yet. 

Just a few more pages, a few more spells, she consoles herself. Then go with her friends. She huffs. Flips another page with a heavy sigh. 

Fire spell, Ice spell, more human spells...anything  _ really  _ big? That a trio of fairies could cast without blood sacrifice or anything like that?

...Nothing.

Nothing useful. 

Again. 

“How’s that one?” Paine asks, doing a lazy loop-de-loop. 

Yuna flicks the book shut. “Useless. Like the others.”

All three sigh as one, wings dropping. Except Yuna’s, since she’s busy being oversized and all without her wings. You don’t go oversized with your wings, that’s just asking for trouble. It’s  _ rude.  _ Almost as bad as begging some outsider to help them in their business. 

Hopefully they won’t see this “Ruse” again. Twice was more than enough. 

(They don’t need outside help. They  _ don’t!) _

There’s a small pile of more magical books. More to look through, more to investigate. 

With each book she goes through, with each magical artifact they steal, the options grow fewer and fewer. None of them are what they need. Not  _ enough  _ for what they need. 

Until Yuna at last throws the last dumb book aside. Whack against the far wall. “Nothing!” 

“Again?” Paine sighs. 

“We’re running out of books,” Yuna says, wrapping arms around her body. What to do, what to do?

“We could call... _ her,”  _ Rikku suggests, fingers pulling at her scarf nervously.

“Bad idea,” Paine disagrees, arms folded over her chest. 

Rikku shakes her head. “Yeah, of course, but do we have a choice?”

Yuna looks down at the useless spellbook. Her fingers are shaking, some part of her notes. Do they have a choice, at his point?

To call on the Dark Name-Stealer...Yuna grits her teeth, wings fluttering invisibly behind her. 

Not the best of ideas, but one of the few options she has left. 

Surely  _ she  _ would have enough destructive magic to completely raze this cursed location, all at once. Freeing what laid underneath. 

Leaving Yuna able to complete her duty. Able to go back to treasure hunting and nothing else again. 

But at what price?

The Flowers are gone, her people are gone, and these caverns are cursed with that awful blank whiteness. A whiteness created by beasts with no hearts. Can anything really go back to the way it was?

“No,” Yuna whispers. “Never.” 

She looks down at the crystal under her feet. Her eyes can’t see them, but she knows they’re there. 

Her people, her mother, her friends. 

The Fey. 

Every single one of them, asleep in the crystal. Waiting for her to wake them up. 

(If only she knew  _ how. _ )


	25. Undertow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a time skip and every POV but our Hero's. 
> 
> The worlds still move outside our narrator. There are Deeper and Darker currents than you know.

(“What about missing stuff? Memories that go-” A flicking gesture with the left hand. “-you know, bye-bye!”)

As the memory replays, the Guide of Departure thinks. Considers each and every possible option, calculated by countless processors. 

Because it is clear now. Clear that Apprentice Sora’s mind is full of holes that cannot be filled, holes that only become visible when nearly every other memory has been put into the correct location. 

Important memories are gone by fault of the Apprentice’s Nobody. A curious case, for a Nobody to exist at the same time as their...wholeness. Their Other. 

Their own person, even? Like how Modification Naminé is Naminé, despite everything else. Prototype Ruse still struggling to exist with so many odds against continued survival. 

The calculations that result in Apprentice Sora waking up whole in less than a decade...all demand sacrifice. The agreement is thus: Nobody must become one with Heart, for everything to be made right. 

The Guide lifts their chin, their veils moving and shifting. A motion the exact opposite of what the Prototype demands. How unfortunate. What a bitter truth, that there is no other way that could occur in a reasonable amount of time, for this Dark and Darker universe to have a Keyblade Warrior present in it once more. 

But such a union...the Guide double-checks the numbers. Never mind they have checked this solution a thousand times already, searching for another impossible way. Such a union does not have to result in the Nobody’s extinction. 

If there is enough of the Nobody afterwards, memories returned to the source...

The Guide holds out their hands. Tracing the air, the programs littered about. Waiting to be commanded, used. Called on. 

Perhaps something can be preserved. An individual, to be saved. If not that, perhaps there will be at least essence enough to form a new program. 

The Guide taps their fingers together, in a prayer-like gesture. Like the events that had led to their creation. Sticky memories that the Guide had not called on for a very long time. 

Perhaps they will have a sibling, in the near future. 

They will not be alone. 

A gasping breath escapes them, at the idea. Silly. They don’t need to breathe. They haven’t breathed for centuries on end. 

Yet...it has been so long, without a Master. And Masters...they all die. In the end. Some... their hands shake as they tuck them into sleeves. Some die more violently than others. Gone into that far place where the Guide cannot follow. 

(“My own heart is...Darkness.”)

That memory...why must it play and play? Why can’t the Guide ever move on? Sinking to their knees, they place their palms against the imagined floor. The Apprentice Ventus sleeps behind them. Forever silent, as always. 

“Master Eraqus...I failed you. I’m sorry. I...I should have never let Xehanort and the Dark Half into my halls.”

Green veils shiver as the Guide shakes their head. 

“Should have never,” they repeat. 

Useless. A decade too late. An apology that could only hoped to be realized should Apprentice Ventus wake, Master Aqua returned. A hope that can only happen if Apprentice Sora wakes, his connection with Apprentice Ventus realized. 

The Guide of Departure  _ must  _ make things right. 

Yet.

They try anyway. With useless words that no one will ever hear. 

“I’m sorry.”

* * *

The best part about the Underworld, Demyx thinks, is that he doesn’t have to do any real work there. 

When Mors isn’t around to take care of the Heartless (arena fighting instead), Braska is instead. Both are more interested in listening to his tunes than demanding he help them. Perfect way of doing things. Perfect way to meet the quota, still seeming busy. 

And wandering around the Underworld with the pair always nets him enough new info to bring in as scouting. Even better. 

Plus the new songs Mors has been teaching him, singing them out until Demyx tries to follow along on Arpeggio. And keeps singing, even if Demyx messes up. 

It’s been a while since Demyx has played any new songs. To be honest, he hasn't really  _ looked  _ for anything new. 

Now when he doesn’t... _ feel  _ anything from playing old ones over and over again. At least, that’s how it’s supposed to work, right? For a Nobody. 

A Nobody among ghosts. Or one ghost, at least. 

He’s  _ pretty  _ sure that Mors isn’t dead, now. Dead as in is a ghost, that sort of thing. 

Ghosts don’t generally eat. Demyx thinks. Speaking of...

“You sure you don’t wanna try?” Mors waves something that looks a lot like a meal bar at him. 

Demyx waves a hand. “I’ll pass.”

Mors shrugs. “Your loss.”

The kid takes out a small cup, taking off a lid. There’s a purple mix in there, sticky looking and sparkly. “What’s that?” Demyx asks, peering more closely. Maybe he should try after all...more food is always good. 

“Crushed up Dark Shards mixed with some water.”

Uh. What? Aren’t those Synthesis Materials? Non-edible? Demyx’s mind blanks. Only brought back to the present by another question. 

“Want a taste?”

Maybe Mors  _ is  _ a ghost, after all. To be eating  _ that  _ stuff. “No.” 

“Suit yourself.”

As Mors bends over, to dig the food bar into the dip more, Demyx’s eye catches a flash of red. On his head, cloth patterned with different shades of red instead of the usual purple. 

“You’re wearing a different rag today,” Demyx notes. 

Mors smiles. “You noticed! Yeah, different colors for the arena. Gets me more cash that way, if people bet on what color I’m wearing...”

“Hm.” Makes sense. Demyx nods. Whatever “cash” is, more of it seems a good thing. His nose wrinkles as Mors takes a huge bite out of the dip-covered food bar. That’s...great. Eating  _ actual  _ Synthesis Materials, that’s...something all right. 

“Maybe one of these days I’ll try eating a Heartless...” Mors thinks out aloud. A thought that Demyx can feel tingling in his gills, threatening to tear out his scales. 

Probably visibly too, enough that Mors responds. 

A wide toothy grin. “Never mind! I’m just kidding!”

Demyx puts a hand on his chest. “Man, don’t do that! I like existing a lot, so don’t go Heartless!”

“Of course, Demyx,” the kid agrees, leaning in his direction. A hand goes up by his mouth, a joke of a whisper directed towards him. “Just for you.”

“Hm...” Demyx fiddles with the strings. Tuning. “Where’s Braska, anyway?”

Mors shrugs again, one hand going to tug at his head wrap. “Doesn’t matter. We can keep busy without him.”

Something about that...Demyx narrows his eyes. What is the secret here?

Only for the kid to start singing. 

“Sweet dreams~ are made of theeesee~” Mors warbles. One of the songs he’s been teaching him, one that he can confidently say he plays really good now. 

Might as well join in. Demyx strums his sitar. 

“Who am I to disagree~” He sings back. 

* * *

“I’m sorry, Auron.” His Guardian, of course, cannot hear Braska from the prison he’s currently trapped in. But the act of apology is important, even if no one else hears it.  _ Especially  _ if no one hears it. It matters, nonetheless. 

Auron is not yet free. Bothersome, but not the end of the world. Braska once spent decades trapped in a bottle. A few months is very little compared to that. 

Braska clasps his hands together, hidden by his sleeves. Now that Ruse is gone, again, playing at being Hades’ champion...to ask the questions for the answers he so very needs. To free Auron and to continue his path among the dead...

And there are only three he can ask for such secrets. 

The Fates.

The neutrality of the Fates is debatable. They spend much of their time in the Underworld after all. But they often turn a blind eye, if only to get the futures they seek after. 

A habit that Braska is counting for, to save Auron. 

Here they are, blue, green, and purple. Waiting for him like they know he’s coming. And knowing them, the trio probably does. 

“You still persist. Still wandering, I see,” Lachesis speaks first. As the eldest, of course she does. 

Braska bows. “When have I not?”

“Always will,” one Fate agrees, almost toothless mouth wide in something like a smile. Too mocking to be a true smile, though. 

The green Fate, Clotho, tilts her head. “You’re here for another question?”

Shortest of the three, Atropos cackles and elbows her sister. “No, he’s here for more than one!”

Braska raises two fingers. “Two questions. That’s all I ask.”

“Two? Normally it’s just one you demand... _ Summoner.” _

He doesn’t flinch. Can’t let them see how that word still stings. 

(His failure still burns.)

The blue sneers. “Double the price then.”

Clotho giggles. “We want  _ four  _ memories from your past.”

Four pieces of his essence, to be cut away by Clotho’s shears. Four pieces he’ll never get back. 

Braska steadies himself and nods. 

The golden eye swivels in Clotho’s socket. “Ask!”

“Ask!” Her sisters agree. 

“First, will Auron be free?”

“If you continue on your path, yes,” Atropos says, right away. The other two nod, agreeing. Now, for a more difficult question. A question that before, Braska didn’t know to ask. One forgotten for a long, long time. 

Talking with Ruse, being around her...something had stirred. Memories, flashes of things that he had almost forgotten. No need to recall them, being dead. 

But now...

For the second question.

“I had a wife. Where is she?”

The uproar is immediate. 

“Outside of our realm of interest, fool!”

“We deal with Realities, not Dreams! The Light, not the Dark!”

“But she’s sleeping in the Realm of Light, so it’s Reality!”

Braska waits, as the three squabble among themselves. Stealing the eyeball from each other, smashing in their skulls moments before the eye is snatched once more. 

Once he had been concerned by such fights. 

Now, well, it’s normal. Best to wait it out, don’t interfere, don’t draw their wrath. 

Finally they turn to him. The blue one, Lachesis, spits out (with a spider), “Hollow Bastion.”

“Now, our price!” Clotho squeals.

Atropos beckons, claws twitching. “Hand over the goods, pretty boy.” 

Braska lets them reach out with their bony hands, lets them touch him. Draw out the memories. It doesn’t matter. Anything for his loved ones. 

Only one question remains, for himself to discover the answer of. 

Hollow Bastion...now where was that?

* * *

Paine considers, once again, the awful whiteness. The pale construction that has taken over the Cavern’s tunnels and caves, full of empty creatures that don’t even  _ desire  _ anything. Like animals, only surviving, but somehow less than that. 

Somehow. 

At the core of it all, there is a large room made from that terrible whiteness. A room with notches in it that take advantage of the cave’s original alcoves. Thirteen of them, to be exact. 

A room that  _ dares  _ to call itself a garden, on the light display in its new center. 

How can this place be called a  _ garden?  _ Paine snorts. There are no Flowers, no plants, no blossoms. No sign of even a single seed. 

No, Garden of Assemblage is an  _ awful  _ name. A lying name. 

But while Rikku and Yuna search for power, for ways to destroy the whiteness, Paine watches. Watches over the “garden” and the empty creatures. 

It’s where her family sleeps, after all. The Fey, who all put themselves into the alcoves to protect their bodies as they went into crystal stasis. 

Only for  _ monsters  _ to come in and cover it all up with the whiteness. Preventing Yuna from ever waking them up. Yuna, chosen of the Fey to be the Awakened One, awake as so to wake the rest when the time came. 

Only to  _ fail.  _

Paine sucks on her teeth. Her wings flutter, back and forth. Useless, useless. All of this so very useless. 

“How’s it going, Paine?” A familiar bright voice chirps in her ear.

Paine doesn’t jump. She instead lets out a long sigh. “What’s gone wrong this time, Rikku?”

“Nothing!” Rikku pats at Paine’s shoulder, tip tap tip tap. “Everything’s absolutely fine.”

Paine rolls her eyes. “Sure it is.”

Rikku swallows and goes into the “absolutely fine” part. “The Dark Name-Stealer...she’s  _ gone. _ ”

Paine pauses. “Gone?”

Rikku nods her head so violently Paine’s almost concerned it’ll jump right off her shoulders. “Vamoosed! No one knows where.”

“That’s...” Paine rolls her shoulders, wings flicking. Both good and bad. Good because now they can’t call on the Dark Name-Stealer and expose Yuna to so much guilt as a result of whatever price she may have demanded. Bad because they can’t call on the Dark Name-Stealer to break this “garden.”

Besides that...

“What’s the name of this world?” Paine asks Rikku right out. 

Rikku pulls at her scarf. “Oh! It’s...it’s...hm.” A frown. No doubt from reaching the same conclusion Painie had. Rikku might be a bit flighty, but she wasn’t dumb by any means. She and Paine wouldn’t be able to keep up with Yuna if they were dumb. 

“The name isn’t back...so she’s either not dead, or didn’t steal the name at all.”

“Hm,” Paini agrees. 

Rikku tugs on her scarf again. “But if she isn’t dead...where is she?”

* * *

“You know, you seem pretty similar to a man I used to know,” Mickey-  _ His Majesty  _ starts out one day, looking thoughtful. 

DiZ pauses from where he’s scrolling through yet more countless notes and records. Hm. That’s not a good line of thought to encourage. 

“I don’t know how I could be,” he says stiffly. DiZ turns his chair so the direction of his body is not towards His Majesty. Still looks at him, of course. But changes the body language. 

Add a change of subject as well. 

“What have you observed of the Organization?”

The Mouse King gives him a  _ look,  _ one that clearly declares “I know what you’re up to” but obliges despite that, going into his report. 

“The Organization seems busy hunting Heartless, mostly.” Mickey puts a hand under his chin. “There’s something else going too, but I’m not sure what.”

“Heartless? That doesn’t make any sense.” Organization XIII isn’t full of heroes, after all. Creatures with no hearts don’t get feel-good fuzzies from riding the worlds of the Heartless. Unless they have another reason for doing so. 

But what?

DiZ drums his fingers against his desk. Could come up with ideas, but his anger, his rage... would taint his reason. Treading through  _ Vexen’s  _ records, dealing with the results of the Replica Project, has taught him that much about his own temper. Maybe, he decides, he should ask His Majesty about a possible reason. 

“Why do you think they’re hunting Heartless, Your Majesty?”

“Hmm.” Mickey takes the question quite seriously, thinking through the options very carefully. His hands tug at the hood of his own coat as he does so. 

“What they’re up to...is it possible they’re searching for their hearts?”

DiZ’s first response is to laugh it off. Those monsters, those traitors, wanting back what they had willingly thrown away? Ridiculous!

But...he knew that his rage influenced him now. Listen to the Mouse King. Actually  _ listen _ . Think it through. 

“Taking out Heartless one by one is a very slow way to find a particular Heart,” DiZ says slowly, “Especially among thousands of them.”

“Yes, but what if you use the Heartless to find your Heart for you?” Mickey suggests. “Get enough Hearts in one place...”

“And the Heartless will follow,” DiZ finishes. “Allowing the Organization to pick through them with ease.”

That  _ does  _ make sense, that idea. But that implies that the Nobodies want their hearts back, like Mickey said. 

Which means...

DiZ frowns. 

“Do they regret? What happened?”

Surely that couldn’t be possible. Surely they were all monsters now, the hungry dead who had given up their names willingly like he had. In Hollow Bastion, you gave up their name with your life. Picked a new name with a new life. 

Nothing more, nothing less. 

“No, they can’t regret. Not with a Heart to feel emotions with...”

“DiZ, I can try to find out more on that.”

“Bring Riku with you, if you can,” DiZ advises, returning to his work. 

A pause, as Mickey raises his hood. Nods towards DiZ. 

“I will...” A whisper. “Old friend.”

* * *

Perhaps Vexen should have directed his experiments towards  _ sharing  _ Hearts, instead of creating them fully anew, if this is the result. Emotions, or something close to them, since he has part of a Heart now. Not his own, but anothers. 

Without the entire dying part, of course. 

Yet if he had done so, the Replicas wouldn’t exist. Replicas, Vexen has to admit, that match his expectations and manage to exceed them at the same time. 

Especially the Replica he’s currently floating about in. 

“Ruse...” A good name. Not the name he would have given, but a good name despite that. Similar enough that he can let it pass without comment. Well,  _ much  _ comment. 

What does she know about Ventus? About secrets he hadn’t dare touch in a lifetime, secrets that should be  _ impossible for her to know? _

Yet...she will not provide answers. Not like this. Not, Vexen searches for the right word, right emotion. Yes, that’s it. 

“Afraid.”

A flicker, in the surrounding Heart. 

Shimmers of shadows that creep in and out... “What was that?”

A feeling...like he’s not alone in here. 

Ridiculous. Of course he’s not alone. He’s in Ruse’s  _ Heart _ , after all. Yet...

Vexen huffs. It doesn’t matter. The possibility of another in here is low and he can’t do anything about it if that is the case. 

Besides...what happens outside this heart is far more interesting to pay attention to than sulking in its depths. 

A laugh breaks through, from that outside. Cheerful, bright. All emotions he hasn’t seen nor heard in a long, long time. 

He can’t help but listen. Listen, but won’t look. Vexen, for once...he won’t interfere with another’s happiness. 

“Oh, you brought pillows! Just like I asked, thanks, Riku!”

“They’re very soft. Thank you, Riku.”

“Wait, you’re leaving? Why?”

“I’m busy.” 

A loud noisy sigh. 

“...Give me that pillow so I can suffocate Riku with it.”

“What?”

“ _ What?”  _ A note of clear worry, in the Nobody’s voice. 

“Oh no, it’s just a joke! I’m not really going to kill him! Don’t worry, Naminé, it’ll be fine!”

“...Ruse, why are you still smiling at me like that, then?”

“ _ Because,  _ Riku, you’re being a dumbass! Get some sleep!”

“Sora wouldn’t be very happy if you never sleep.”

“...Fine.” A huff, and a thud as the boy, Riku, presumably throws himself onto the floor. Very dramatically. 

“And just to be sure...” Flump. A sudden exhale of breath. 

“Uh?”

“Ruse, why are you on top of Riku?”

“Snuggle pile, of course! C’mon, Naminé, join in!”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course! Whatcha think, Riku?”

“...Add more pillows.”

“Yeah! This is the best sleepover ever! Just need some popcorn...”

“What’s a sleepover?”

“Well, it’s when-”

Vexen draws away from the outside voices. 

For the first time in a decade...the chill that he always carries is gone. Replaced with a not unpleasant warmth. Too late, now. Far too late. 

No hands to grip into fists, no legs to pace with...no, too late for any of that. 

“How idiotic of me...” Vexen hisses. Too quiet to interrupt the fun his current host is having, of course. Don’t want to ruin that. 

So much has happened and what did he do with his single chance? Squandered it, threw it away because it didn’t appear like he thought it would. 

Now, due to his mistakes, he’s trapped in the Heart of a girl. Not a thing, but a person, a  _ girl.  _ A girl, who at the very core of her interactions with him, remembers gripping hands and yelling with an emotion. With  _ fear.  _

A pure fear barring his way to more knowledge, a fear that Vexen  _ hates _ , but can do nothing now to mitigate. A fear that she’s right to have, with the way he acted before. 

For the first time in a decade...Vexen  _ regrets.  _

* * *

_ Day 120 _

Something’s wrong with Axel. He’s slower than he used to be and he fights less. He thinks I’ve noticed but...it’s hard not to. Even the “day off” didn’t seem to help. 

Especially with the coughing. It’s really loud and getting louder. 

I don’t know what’s wrong. Or how to fix it. Xion doesn’t either. 

Axel keeps saying nothing is wrong, Nobodies don’t get sick...but I don’t think he’s right.

And Xion...I think she’s not telling me something. It’s like when she lost her Keyblade all over again. 

But what?

...Friends are hard sometimes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And before anyone can wonder, Demyx is not purposefully being a jerk. Ruse simply hasn't told him anything, including her being trans.
> 
> Also, in these times, I hope you're all doing okay. And if you'e outside the US, I still wish you well.


	26. Universal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Hero is post-time skip and meets someone with the face of a person she's forgotten. And does a runner. 
> 
> Awkward first meetings are just universal, I guess.

“~cuz I’m on top of the world, yeah!”

Shield up. Catch the bolts. 

“Be waiting for a while nooooww~”

Bash. Bash. Hum a bit, get the beat in my blood. 

The crowd gets louder and louder. The exact opposite of the Coliseum in every Kingdom Hearts game. 

Alive and cheering me on. But fickle. And bloodthirsty. If the Heartless get the upper hand, well, they’ll start cheering for them instead. 

Good thing I’ve been doing this for a couple weeks now. Months, really. 

The thing about arena fighting was that it has to be as flashy as possible. As so to draw in the crowds. The happier the crowd, the most munny you got. And the better fights came in with _really_ big crowds. All good things. 

Which was why, of course, I had come up with a few tricks. A few identifiable moves that the crowd could track and be quite happy as a result. 

...Kinda like wrestling, actually. Now that I’m thinking about it. 

Shield up, catch the bolts again. Can’t do it forever, they’ll get bored. Time for a Ruse Special! 

Turn on my toe, like I’m doing ballet. Stretch out my hand...out goes the ice. Catch the cannons as I twirl. 

And for the final step, as the cheering grows to a fever pitch...

I wink (not that they’ll see) and wiggle my hand like I’m shooing a fly. The ice cracks and shatters, and with it, every single Heartless too. 

Ah, my Shiva Serve! One of my favorite moves to play out. 

Wave to the crowd, princess wave. I’m leaving the arena as I do so, since that was my last match of the day. A nice cooldown (heh) before some other fighters come in. 

I’m one of the top now, all things considered. A fan favorite, even with the open knowledge that I’m working as Hades’ champion working against me. 

Enough monster blood spilled and the public will accept anything, I guess. 

I wipe at the sweat on my brow, tug my bandana back into position. It’s bright green today, with neon tean skulls on it. One out of the three I have now, the variant red one, the purple stars one, and now green skulls. 

The money will come in whether the odds are for or against me. I don’t care. That’s all that matters, getting better at fighting (for the future) and building a bit of a munny hoard for any emergencies. 

A cough grabs my attention. I whirl and flounce over to the culprit. The man (er, goat?) of the stands himself, Phil. 

“Mind coming back tomorrow?” Phil asks gruffly. 

I blink. “Six days in a row? My, I didn’t know you liked me so much!” I put my hand dramatically on my chest, grinning down at the satyr. 

The satyr only scowls back in response. Same as always. “Hercules is gone, but don’t be getting any funny ideas!” A stubby finger wags in my face. “Just to grab an old friend.”

I hum. An old friend, huh? Not that changes anything for me, but if I tell Pain and Panic...well, they probably already know. 

But it’ll keep me on their good side. 

Always a good thing, ever since the Box Incident. The Incident that alerted me to how the Heartless got into the arena, through boxes. (Like the box I had been trapped in, how fun.)

“See you tomorrow then, Phil!”

The satyr grumbles as I head down below. 

_Your movements need to be faster for better fighting._

I grunt. Vexen, again. Always the same thing. I give him the same answer as always. “You know I can’t do that, slower is better for the people watching.”

 _Too slow and your enemies will kill you,_ he huffs. 

I shrug, treading carefully on the stone downward stairs. “I know that. That’s what the fighting dirty’s for.”

People couldn’t stab me if they were too busy slipping on ice patches, after all. 

_Just...be careful._

I start humming again. Drown his words out. Vexen gets the message and stops talking. What’s been with him lately? Dude’s been getting louder and louder about me fighting better, eating more. 

Like he cares. 

Ha. 

That’s a funny thought. 

The sound of...a sitar! I perk up and start hurrying my pace. Demyx’s here! Which means...well, more fighting usually. But music too! Which is always nice. I don’t want to make my own tunes all the time. 

And the music gets Braska to stop frowning. Something he’s also been doing a lot lately. Something’s wrong, but he won’t tell me. 

Probably Auron. 

“Just need to get him out, wait a little longer,” I mutter. Walk right into the camp area, our usual meeting place. Braska’s there, of course. I stride over to stand next to him. Across from Demyx and...someone else? Right in his shadow. Hm. That’s new. 

“So what’s the deal this time, Demyx? The usual?”

I peer over at the figure standing in his shadow. Make out some details, details that are oddly fuzzy considering that I have night vision now. Or Underworld vision? Something like that. 

Brown hair, all twisted and curly instead of the usual straightened, light blue eyes, why does that look so fam-?

Oh. _Oh._

_Ruse. What’s wrong?_

Next to me, in the corner of my eye, I catch Braska’s face paling. Actual ghost kind of pale. But I’m too busy having a realization of my own, a metaphorical lightning strike to the brain, to help him out. 

She looks _exactly_ like my _little sister._ From Before. 

No. Nononono.

How did I _forget?_

Memories come rushing back, memories that somehow existed in the back of my head, without me realizing that they had disappeared in the first place.

It’s the situation with my old name all over again, Naminé and me in Castle Oblivion, me with no name. Me, choosing a new name. Becoming Ruse. 

(“Shed your skin, like the _snake that you are._ ”)

My head aches. What was that? My hands are wrapped around my skull. When did that happen?

“Hello?” The girl with the face of my sister speaks. My eyes catch on the black coat she’s wearing and finally, I understand. 

_Number XIV._ Vexen whispers in my skull. Confirming it. 

Oh. That’s Xion. 

Oh. 

Um. 

What do I do _now?_

My feet make the decision for me. I’m moving, _running._ “I’ll be back!” I call over my shoulder. 

Yeah. 

Just need a breather. 

That’s all. 

* * *

  
  


As Ruse’s steps fade into the distance, Braska takes this opportunity to look this newcomer over. Carefully. 

That face...he doesn’t know that face. Short brown hair, bright blue-green eyes. Too young, to be the wife he vaguely recalls existing. Too female to be Auron, at any age. 

He doesn’t know whose face that is. 

But his heart feels like it should, somehow. 

“So, wonder what Mors saw, to make him run away like that,” Demyx remarks, shielding his eyes as he looks out in the direction of Ruse’s retreat. The man shakes his head, gloved fingers going up to scratch at his neck slits. “Didn’t think he was that scared of girls.”

“What do you mean by that, Demyx?” Braska inquires. HIs hands slide into his sleeves, resisting the urge to take out his staff. 

Sometimes, that man needs a good whack to the head, with what comes out of his mouth. 

Auron would have already delivered it, were he here. 

Demyx gestures towards the newcomer, as he slouches over his sitar. “Everyone sees something different. It’s weird. But Nobody levels of weird.”

Since “Nobody” seems to mean “reason I have scales and gills like a fish while looking otherwise human” to Demyx, Braska can’t say he disagrees with that. 

An individual that apparently changes shape on who beholds them is new, though. 

“Unusual,” he agrees. He turns to the small child-sized individual. Wearing a coat like Demyx’s, so they both must be from the same group. “What is your name?” Gives a polite bow. 

That face screws up nervously and the child bows back, a bit awkwardly. “Xion.”

Hm. Xion. As odd of a name as Ruse. Or Demyx. Perhaps those are normal names for the living, now. He’s been dead for a long time, after all. 

(“As First of the Bloom, I’ll live longer than you will, Braska. I’m used to it.” Sad green eyes. Fey eyes.)

“Xion, why are you here?”

Nervous again, as they peer up at Demyx. Who is the opposite of helpful (as always), waving a hand in their direction. 

“Just kill Heartless. That’s why you’re here, aren’t you?”

Braska lifts an eyebrow. “Always with the Heartless.”

Demyx leans back. “What, you don’t want them gone?”

“I have a feeling we would be able to handle them just fine without you.”

Demyx smiles. Almost. The facial movement is too twitchy, too fake, to be an actual smile. Like everything else about Demyx. “Heheh. Maybe. But you wouldn’t have my music.”

“That’s true,” Braska agrees. Almost managing to get rid of the flatness in his tone. 

Xion looks puzzled. And young. Somehow younger than Ruse. 

He directs his next words to them. “You should wait for Mors to return.”

Mors, Mors. One day Ruse should say something about that, but it’s understandable if she wants to hide her real name. From people with faces not their own and fake smiles. 

“Why?”

“He knows the best Heartless spots,” Demyx pips up, strumming out some stray tune. Braksa twitches. Ruse is a girl, he wants to say, but she asked him not to. _No corrections._ Though the ghost can’t understand why...

Xion nods. “Ah.” And stands there. Making no move to plop down on some rock to sit, like Demyx always does. Perfectly still, like they’re not breathing at all. Unnatural, for someone so clearly not dead. Alive. 

“You may sit,” Braska offers, a little helpless. He doesn’t need to sit, he doesn’t get tired the way the living do, but Ruse always sits down when she can. Proclaiming that she “needs rest to keep up the badassery.” Whatever that means. 

Xion does. Mechanically. 

Yes. Very odd. Odd enough to frighten off Ruse. But she’ll be back soon enough, not one to let fear take over for long. 

Then they’ll see. With Xion. 

* * *

Alone. Need to breathe. Need to get past this. Can’t help her, can’t change this. My sister is _gone._ I can’t do anything. 

Oh, why did Xion have to look like her?

What the hell is _wrong with me?_ Forgetting my own sister, forgetting everything like that, how could I? 

I press my face into my hands. I’m _not a child,_ but I keep acting like one. Trusting everyone I see...what the hell? What the hell?

Before, I was just about to turn twenty. I’m no kid. 

How could I forget that? And my sister...

(Am I just replacing her with Naminé? How could I?)

Vexen’s interruption almost comes as a blessed relief, if not for the question he’s asking.

_Who is that girl, that Xion looks like?_

“She’s...” I pause. Got to correct that. “Was my sister. In another life.”

_That is how you know Ventus, from your past life._

Not a question. Not surprising, really. Vexen isn’t stupid, I knew he wasn’t going to let that Ventus mess-up go. A wry smile pulls at my heavy scarring. 

“Yeah. From a distance, though. Weren’t friends or anything like that.” From the distance of a TV screen, that is. 

A pause. What comes next from Vexen could be considered hesitant, if I didn’t know better. Not from him, never from him. _Your sister...were you close?_

A huff of air escapes my mouth, as I lean back to rest on my hands. Looking at the dark, dark rocky ceiling. Pokey and full of stalactites. 

“Not really. We...were pretty different. Cared about different stuff, not super buddy-buddy or anything.”

I laugh. Comes out a bit weak, empty of the humor I tried for. “Funny, isn’t it? I really miss her now. Despite that.”

Stupid. There’s nothing I can do now. She’s probably fine. 

_What was her name?_

Quiet. Not demanding. I don’t have to answer. I shouldn’t answer, tell the man a lesson. But... Someone should know. Other than me. Even if it’s just a ghost. 

“Ema. That’s her name.”

Thirteen years old, much more extroverted than I could ever hope to match, into clothes and make-up and Harry Potter. 

Ema. 

(I miss her.)

_Hm._

I blink. That grunt didn’t sound very happy. “What’s the problem?”

_Nothing. Only that is mildly disappointing that you are a reincarnate, not entirely new Heart._

The sound of that... I laugh. It comes out sharp, short. 

“You’re sad that you didn’t manage to make a Heart, only the absolute craziness of bringing in another Heart after possible death?”

_...it sounds ridiculous when you put it that way._

That’s because it _is._

Utterly ridiculous. 

I laugh. Again. Comes out as giggles this time. “Vexen, you’re completely outrageous. Don’t ever change.”

I think I might miss his assholery if he did. 

Another pause. 

_Do you wish to find your sister’s Heart?_

My laughing stops as I consider this question. Strangely sincere, like everything about Vexen so far. 

“That thought...” My hands go up behind my head, as I lean back against the wall. “I don’t know. I know I can’t find her, as I am.”

So why wish for the impossible? I’ll let it go. It’s my only option. Either that or go insane about what I cannot hope to ever get back. Well, _more_ insane. 

_I see._

The feeling of cold fingers on my shoulder. Gone as soon as I realize that’s what I’m feeling there. 

_You should return to Xion and the rest._ Vexen finally says. 

I sigh, shoulders slumping. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” For once in his existence. 

Should go back, need to go back. Ignore that face that is not hers. 

One last farewell. Fitting, that it should be spoken here, in the land of the dead. 

“Good-bye, Ema. Little sister.”

A smile. 

“You won’t mind, right?” Naminé and the rest...

No, she wouldn’t. 

* * *

An echo, across time and space. Never to be realized, never to be touched. Parallel lines traveling forever. 

Have you considered the odds of knowing the people that you know? Of being born to a certain family? How many individuals you will never ever know in person?

Some people are never meant to meet. 

(Not again.)

A single pink carnation, dropped on an empty grave. A single breath. 

“Good-bye, ______.”

A sad smile, wet with tears, on a grown woman’s face. 

“Hope you’re happy, wherever you are.”

* * *

  
  


Xion’s never had anyone _run_ to get away from her before. 

She doesn’t like it. It burns in her chest, like the Fire spells she uses. 

(The Fire spells that are stronger than they should be, like Axel’s. Not _hers._ )

The man, Braska, just watches. His lips are curved downwards, like Saïx. A lot about Braska reminds her of Saïx. She doesn’t like him. 

Demyx is playing in the background, the way he always does. Doesn’t matter. He won’t do any work, that’s what he told her. That she had to do it all, or they would both get in trouble. 

But Xion knows the truth. All the punishment would be hers. Saïx would see to it. 

She huddles on the rock, hoping that the Braska man will stop looking at her. 

Thankfully, he does, when the noise of running is heard. Xion looks up and it’s Mors. The person who’s been doing the _real_ work, the boy Demyx told her about, the “hey, maybe you’ll learn to talk more, he talks a lot” boy. 

Xion swallows. Pulls her hood up, hiding in it. No one needs to see her face. (Even if they can’t really see it anyway.)

She’s not sure about this. 

Mors is as different from Roxas in appearance as the Castle is from Twilight Town. His hair is silver where Roxas’ is gold, dark violet marks running up the right side of his face. Wears dark blue and red, no coat. And strangely, green cloth on his head. Green cloth with skulls on it. 

Mors waves. More of a hand wiggle. “Oh, sorry about that. So you’re here for Heartless?”

“Of course!” Demyx says very loudly. 

Mors waves a hand at him without even looking. “Not asking you. But since you’re talking...play some Sweet Dreams again, afterwards.”

“Love to!” 

Braska looks over, lips still downward. 

“Would you-?”

Mors shakes his head. “Nah, Braska. We’ve got this handled.” A pat on Xion’s shoulder. She almost flinches but controls the reaction just in time. Can’t show fear, can’t show fear. 

The man nods. “Alright. But be careful.”

A smile, she thinks, that’s what it’s called when teeth are bared like that. “Of course!”

Mors doesn’t talk as much as Xion expected. Biting at his lip instead of talking. Not talking as much as Demyx said he would. Maybe he’s scared of her. 

She finds she doesn’t like the thought. But it shouldn’t matter. They’re not friends. Only Roxas and Axel get that. 

“Oh frick, monsters!” Mors points out at some...ghost-looking creatures. Not Heartless, but still clearly hostile, red eyes flashing. 

Before Mors can do anything, Xion takes care of it. Stepping forward, hands stretched out...the ghosts _burn._ Burn and die again, screaming and screaming as she moves her hands back and forth to let the fire gush out. 

Common Fires come from her fingers like Firas now, too bright and too strong for what she’s casting. 

(Almost like Ax- no, don’t think about that.)

A inhale of breath, from next to her, while she burns the monsters down. 

When the monsters are dead, Xion puts out her Fire and turns to Mors. 

Who looks really, really pale. Not good, like Axel is lately. 

Xion stops. “Are you okay?”

Mors swallows. Shake his head. “Um, you mind not using Fire around me? It..I’m not great around Fire.”

His gloved fingers go up to trace the purple markings on his face. The markings that look like burns, trailing up his neck. 

(Under her gloves, Xion’s own burns tingle.)

“Okay,” Xion agrees. She can do that. Using her Keyblade will be a little slower, but not by much. (She can fight through pain.)

Mors grins. It’s as bright as a sunset, Xion can’t help but think. Under her hood, she smiles too. 

“Thanks. And before we go any further...”

Mors stops in the path, his face all screwed up. 

“Hey, I’m a girl, so get that settled in, kay?”

Xion frowns. “But Demyx said you were a he.” And girls weren’t he’s...she’s pretty sure. 

(Something in her gut stirs and burns.)

Mors blinks one eye all funny. “Yeah, but he doesn’t know. It’s a secret, okay?”

“Why wouldn’t you tell him?” Xion _thinks_ she knows why, memories coming up with a certain sneer and being called “it.” 

Words shouldn’t hurt, they’re not Heartless claws. But they do, somehow. 

Mors shuffles “her” feet. “Well, I’m afraid that he...wouldn’t listen. Keep calling me he. It would be the same...” Twisting lips. “But worse. Because I would know for _real_ that he doesn’t care.”

So it’s the same, Mors and Xion. Why does the burning go away at that thought? Knowing it’s the same shouldn’t change anything. Like how words shouldn’t be able to hurt like weapons do, on the inside. 

“He doesn’t really care,” Xion agrees. They wouldn’t be doing his work if he did. 

Mors droops. “Way to make me feel better!” Saying the words like they don’t actually make her feel better, but worse instead. 

“...oh.” Oops. She didn’t mean to do that. 

Mors shakes her head, hair flying around from under the green head-cloth. “Nah, it’s fine.”

Xion’s not sure if it is, but Mors doesn’t want to talk. Like Axel. So she lets it pass. 

There are not a lot of Heartless to fight, when they get to their destination. Easily taken care of by her Keyblade and Mors’ familiar blue shield. 

But Mors seems pleased anyway. “Ah, that’s a good haul,” she says, squatting down to pick up the rocks that Heartless usually end up leaving behind. 

Why would she take them?

Xion asks. She probably won’t get an answer, people usually don’t give out answers without payment first. (Xaldin taught her that.) Unless they’re Roxas and don’t know either. Or Axel, who tries but is bad at explaining. Or maybe she’s just dumb. 

Xion doesn’t know. 

“Huh.” Mors’ purple eyes (so much like her own) narrow. “So they didn’t tell you anything about that, huh.”

Mors shows the crystals to Xion, bright and shiny. “If you give them to a Moogle, they’ll make things for you.”

“Really?” Xion doesn’t really talk to the Moogle, it always gives her strange looks when she tries. She lets Roxas take care of it instead. 

Mors nods firmly. “Yep. Want some?”

Xion shakes her head, as Mors starts pouring the small rocks into her hands. “No, you got them first. “

“No, have some!” When Xion tries to give the rocks back, Mors shakes her head and presses them back into her hands. “I have plenty. Got a head start, after all.”

“Fine,” Xion agrees with a huff. She shoves the rocks into her pockets. She’ll talk to Roxas about them. See what he thinks. Him and Axel. 

When they start heading back...Mors moves forward a little bit. Before suddenly stopping, and whirling around to face Xion once more. 

Mors huffs. Stops right there in the path, hands on her hips. “That’s it! My family would be ashamed if I didn’t...so that’s how it’s gonna be.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Mors waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Xion worries. What could Mors mean? Is it good or bad? 

“Hey, we should see Mosh. The Moogle.”

“Okay,” Xion agrees, still feeling a bit like she’s been knocked off her feet. She needs Potions anyway, and maybe talking to a Moogle will make things more sense. More sense than he’s that are actually she’s, rocks that make things apparently, and Mors, who won’t take no for an answer. 

Maybe. 

(She thinks it won’t, for some reason.)

(But she’s warm, on the inside, so it can’t be all bad, right?)

* * *

Mosh once thought this would be the slowest location he would ever work. Since this is an underworld and the dead don’t buy much, after all. 

Silly him. 

But best to have business, to keep an eye on the child who keeps hurrying around like a ditzy butterfly, always needing potions, always chattering and _fighting._

(Moogles don’t fight. Mark another difference, for the list.)

A child who’s here with another?

Hm?

“Hey, this is my sister Xion,” Ruse says proudly, gesturing to the child next to her. Purple-blue eyes, black hair, hu-man shaped and faced. At least, that’s what he sees under that hiding hood. Doesn’t matter. Not like the heart at all. 

This “Xion” glances over at her, clearly surprised, but Mosh is too busy shifting through the revelation to pay much mind to it. 

From the feel of it, the neat organization of the heart...

Another Moogle-like being that is not a Moogle at all. Hm. 

“And she is your sister?” Mosh asks cautiously, looking between this Xion and Ruse. They certainly feel alike enough for that to be the case, to be possible bundle-mates. For non-Moogles, the purple eye coloring would definitely lean opinion towards related. Distantly, if not closely, he thinks. Human relations are more difficult to track than Moogle ones, after all. 

Ruse shrugs. “Yeah, pretty much. Same source and all that.”

Xion’s heart sends out a pulse. Noisy and uncontrolled. A Moglet’s distress call, almost. Mosh nearly falls out of the air in shock. He catches himself mid-wing stutter, only managing to catch Xion’s words as well. 

“What do you mean, same source? What’s a sister?”

“Well...” Ruse scratches at her head. “You can’t tell anyone, okay?”

Xion’s heart pulses again. More distress. So much noisier than her “sister’s” Heart in every way. Xion must be the younger of the pair, possibly from a different bundle all together. “Why not?”

“Because...” Ruse chews, teeth obviously pinching down on the inside of her cheek. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

The words come out slowly, but the message they communicate is far too important to let speed get in the way. Mosh’s pom-pom shivers. The people in black coats, the Organization, they’ll hurt Xion for being what Ruse is? 

If that is so...Mosh must tell the rest of the Moogles. This cannot be allowed to pass, the last hope of their people. 

Xion tilts her head. “I don’t understand. You ran from me.”

Ruse winces. “Yeah. I did. Sorry about that, I shouldn’t have. But...” She lights up, the way she always does when finding an answer to a difficult question. “Sisters can be like a type of friend. The good ones, at least.”

“Oh.” Xion looks away shyly. “It won’t take away from my friends, you as a sister?”

Ruse shakes her head. “Of course not. You can have your friends and I’ll have mine.”

“That’s alright, then,” Xion agrees, “We can be sisters.”

Ruse fist-pumps. “Sweet!”

Mosh smiles a little too, in his Moogle way. Not visible or noticeable to any non-Moogles, of course. 

“We should celebrate with some snacks,” he suggests. 

Ruse’s eyes glow as she grins. “Oh yeah! Hand it over!”

And so the Jellied Shards come out. Blue, red, green, as many colors as the rainbow, with a focus on Frost and Dark. 

After the unpleasant revelation that Ruse thought mixing _materia dust_ and _water_ served as a decent meal, Mosh had gone to Monty for advice and possible snacks. As a former Moglet-tender, Monty had plenty of ideas on how to get reluctant Moglets to eat. 

As well as a Recipe for Jellied Shards. 

Perfect for Ruse’s too soft teeth and far better than plain _materia dust._

Xion doesn’t require much urging, to snatch a few Jellied Shards for herself. Mosh keeps a careful eye out, carefully placing her preferences. (As well as making sure Ruse didn’t accidentally shove her aside in the excitement!)

Unlike Ruse, who favors the Frost treats, Xion seems to have a taste for Blazing. At least by the amount of red-tinted candies she’s been shoving into her pockets. Opposites, how interesting. 

“You must be Fire-aligned.”

Indigo eyes narrow, but Xion speaks up before Mosh can ask Ruse what that’s about. 

“What do you mean?”

“You are strong in Fire magic, are you not?” 

Xion fidgets, hands pulling at each other. “...Yes. Stronger than I was in the beginning.”

“Ah, so your alignment must be coming in.”

Every Moogle had their elemental alignment, in the way both Fey and hu-mans did. For hu-mans, such appeared in what kind of magic they did best and for Fey, in what Flowers they grew. In Moogle-kind, elemental alignment took the form of what materials they were the most skilled in synthesizing with. As well as what materia they preferred for a good snack. 

Mosh himself likes a good Lucid Gem or two. One reason he chose this world, for the amount of Heartless that spawned here, producing such. 

Strange that both Ruse and Xion took after hu-mans in displaying their alignment mostly, but it made sense. They both did, after all, look hu-man mostly. 

“Fire, huh?” Ruse taps her foot. “Wonder where that came from.”

Mosh places his paws together. “Who knows.” 

If they were true Moglets, he would say it was due to the materials in their making. Otherwise...he didn’t know how hu-mans determined alignment. 

Maybe time of day or diet or something? Who knew?

“Now, I wanna a couple of Potions, and I’ll get some for Xion too.”

“I have munny,” Xion pipes up, still brushing off the jellied material off of her black fingers. Her voice is oddly high-pitched.

Ruse shakes her head. 

“Good big sisters pay for the younger, even if you hate them at the time.”

Xion’s chest puffs up as blue eyes narrow. “I’m a hundred and thirty-two days old!”

Ruse doesn’t look up from where she’s counting out munny. “Still older.”

As for Mosh, he’s stuck on the part that Xion is apparently _not even a year old._ Barely out of the pouch if she were a Moglet. Is Ruse the same? No, that can’t be it. Ruse may be naive at times, but she knows far more than any child should. She can’t be younger than Xion. 

Different batches, for sure. 

“So Potions, how bout a Hi-Potion or two? Or, oooh, some Jellies, add that in, I’ll pay for those on top. What’s your top three favs?”

Xion’s eyes are too wide and her mouth too wide, to provide much of an answer. Which is fine on Ruse’s part, Mosh knows. Ruse loves to chat, even if no one is actually listening. 

“And Burn Ointment, don’t forget that! You might need it with the Fire you’ve been throwing around.” 

Xion flinches at that. Hm? What’s that about? But Ruse draws more attention, so he’ll let it go. For now. 

Ruse mouths, _shove in an extra Elixir,_ nudging the girl next to her. Mosh nods and does so, sneaking in one for Ruse as well. 

Very careful, he doesn’t want either of them paying for what is a gift. That would be disrespectful in the very least. 

“Thank you...” Xion faintly says, watching the goods pile up before shocked eyes and Ruse paying without a flick of a wing. (Er, so to speak.) “But I should go now.”

“Gotta go back with Demyx, huh?” Ruse heaves a sigh. “What a pain.”

“I’ll be back,” Xion says, just above a whisper. 

“You promise?”

Xion straightens her chin. Nods once. “I will.”

A bright smile. “We’ll be waiting!”

Mosh nods, putting paws together once more. “Of course we will.”

* * *

For a moment, Xion thinks of telling Roxas and Axel about this. About Mors, about being sisters, about the treats. 

But she won’t. 

She’s already keeping secrets. 

(Hiding her growing suspicion that there’s something _wrong_ with her, that she’s no Nobody. That she’s _hurting Axel.)_

What’s one more?


	27. Unmourned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our Hero faces off against poor self esteem, a ghost, and some body dysphoria on the side. 
> 
> (Guess which one loses.)

Ruse comes back quiet. Too quiet. 

“What’s wrong?”

Indigo eyes slide over. Examining Naminé, like she might have answers. Like Ruse is considering saying something. But nothing is said. Only silence. 

Naminé had just resigned herself to getting no answers when one comes out of nowhere. 

“I had a sister. Before.”

Naminé can’t help the way her glow stutters at the revelation. “What?”

Ruse smiles, shaking her head. “Yeah, kinda hard to believe, isn’t it?”

“Why-?” Naminé swallows her words. Before she can ruin this. 

But Ruse knows it anyway. “Why just now, huh? Just remembered now. Which is...weird. I guess.”

Naminé tries for a small smile. “Can’t be stranger than everything else that has happened.”

A huff. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“But...” Naminé’s fingers cul around her sketchbook, in her lap. “Why tell me?”

“You’re my best friend,” Ruse says. Confident, no trace of doubt. 

_ Best friend.  _ Naminé’s throat closes up. “Best friend” sounds like something Sora would say, would call someone. Has called someone, before.

Naminé never thought she would ever hear that term applied to  _ herself _ , of all people. 

That should be impossible. 

Yet here she is, being called best friend. Her chest warms, as hot as fire on the inside. 

“I am?”

Ruse nods firmly, hair all over the place. “Yep. You are.” The replica pauses. “Um. Do you want me to tell you more about my sister?”

Naminé smiles. A little. Not much, not as much as a real person would be able to. “I would...yes please.”

Memories, willingly shared. Memories in the form of words, instead of Naminé carefully pulling them free. 

Yes. 

She thinks she would like that. 

Ruse lets out a breath. “Okay. Here we go.” She settles on the ground, right next to Naminé’s chair. Staring in the Sora-pod’s direction. She’s surprisingly chilly, as she leans up against Naminé’s legs. 

“Ema...well, she was kinda annoying sometimes. Always worrying. But she was super good at crafts, like sewing and did some painting-”

Naminé lets the babble wash over her. Interrupting only once. “What did she look like?”

“Oh? Well, Ema was-”

Colored pencils out and carefully picked. It’ll delay more work, but she’s done so much already for Sora. Ruse deserves something too. Naminé will draw Ema, the best she can. Without peeking at Ruse’s newly recovered memories, without possibly ruining them. 

It's the least she can do, for her best friend.

* * *

Castle Oblivion has a bathroom. 

A single bathroom, with a decently sized bathtub. With some soaps. Knowing what I do about this world’s past inhabitants, I don’t think I  _ want  _ to know where exactly those soaps came from.

I use the non-scented ones whenever I  _ have  _ to clean up. 

Not that it matters, really. Like how it doesn’t matter that I have no idea who else in our strange party uses the tub. Not my problem. 

(Some stuff you’re better off not thinking about.)

Fill it up, as much hot water as I can manage. Which isn’t much, anymore. Something about my ice using leaves me not liking the hottest temperatures. Not like before. 

Get suds. Suds everywhere. And slip in, clothes off. Trying not to lower my eyes too much, trying not to look at my own body too much. Wash my hair. Stays greasy, no matter how much I try...

I catch glimpses mostly. Glimpses I try not to focus on too long. 

My right hand is purple. Kinda shriveled and wrinkled. Weaker, than it used to be.There’s a reason I default to my left now, for fighting. Tiger stripes of scarred flesh, almost like stretch marks, across my stomach and my hip. Ugly patches eating up the entirety of my shoulder.

Easy to forget, what marks the burns left on my body when I spend most of my time with those scars covered by my Dark Suit. How my right side will never be what it was, how ugly it looks. Too easy to forget.

Along with everything else about this body that just...doesn’t feel  _ right.  _

But in the water...I shiver, sink down to my chin. 

I can’t hide the truth of my body anymore. Not there. A body that my little sister would never know was me, I can’t help but think bitterly. 

I mean, there's a reason I try to fill the bathtub up with suds whenever I  _ have  _ to clean up. The bubbles are good to hide under. 

“Vexen?”

_...I thought you had determined that you didn’t want me talking to you. In the bath. _

I let out a heavy sigh, wiggling my toes right above the water. 

“Well, I need to talk to you. Pretending you aren’t in my body  _ all  _ the time isn’t gonna help.” Not really. Though it’s creepy to admit. 

_ What is it then? Be quick about it. _

Straight and to the point. I can appreciate that. “What’s up with Xion?”

_...You noticed that.  _ An unspoken question. Good thing I have an excuse. I have a lot of excuses, these days. 

My fingers tap against the sill of the tub. “Her movements are  _ exactly  _ like Axel’s, with that fire. And last time I knew, Axel didn’t have a Keyblade.”

Breathe in. Breathe out. Don’t let the fire get to me, don’t panic. 

“Who is she supposed to be a replica of?”

_ Sora’s Nobody. Roxas.  _

Right. Know that. But that doesn’t explain...

“Where’s the Axel stuff coming from, then?”

_ Hm. She must be drawing on both Axel and Roxas. If she’s spent about the same amount of time with each... _

“Then she draws from both. Hm.” I finish for him. Fingers go tapping away. 

That’s a nice theory and all. But I also know something that Vexen doesn’t, has no hope of ever realizing. 

That a certain redhead ends up with a Keyblade in the future. 

Is it possible that Xion is drawing entirely from Axel, to get both fire and Keyblade? Yes.

Does it really matter in the long run? Probably not, only if I don’t care about Axel dying. Well. Kinda. The sick feeling I get every time something reminds me of him is still around, but I think I might actually feel worse if he died. 

A heavy sigh escapes me, as I sink into the bubbles.

Yeah. 

I should  _ probably  _ do something about this mess. If only for Xion’s sake. 

“Can I do anything about that?”

_...It’s possible. If Xion stays away from Number VIII long enough.  _

“And she won’t die?” I check. Dying was a huge problem in canon, if I’m recalling correctly. Poor Xion, caught between her own death or the death of the one she loved most. 

Agh. 

I  _ need  _ to change that. 

_ She shouldn’t. Not with a proper upgrade.  _

“Proper upgrade, got it.” I nod, tapping my chin. Maybe if I ask Guide about it, they’ll know something in the archives for Xion...

_ The water is getting cold. _

“Vexen! No bringing up the bath!”

_ You talked to me first! _

* * *

Another day, another fight. 

I come down into the Underworld with a hop in my step and humming a song under my breath. 

What song? Does it matter? Not really. Whatever it is changes to match the sitar music singing its way through the darkness. 

Leading me to its source. The one and only Demyx. Demyx, and no one else. Certainly not who I expected to be there. 

“Is Xion around here?” I ask hopefully. 

Demyx’s gills flutter. He places a hand dramatically on his chest. “Whoa, you care more about her than me?”

“You’re still my favorite sitar player!” I promise, flapping my hands back. 

“That’s right! She’s over by the Safe Point.” Demyx strums a low note. Then he pauses. “Wait. Am I the only sit-”

“Can’t stop, gotta find Xion!” I take a run through the wisps and mist. Hoping that Xion is actually where he said she is. 

Ah. In the cave, by the glowing green. A familiar hooded figure. She is. By the Save Point, I mean. Something itches at my brain about that. The Save Point, the Save Point, there’s something over there. Other than Mosh, I mean. Something...important. 

Dangerous?

Hm. Only if I could remember...

_ You do not ever take the shield out around there.  _

Hm, that’s true. Heading over, there’s Xion in her coat, in the cave. Looking like she’s talking with Mosh a bit. Or Mosh is talking to her, more likely. 

Her Keyblade’s out. A shadow moving behind her. 

That shadow...

“Oh no.”

Why’d I have to remember  _ now?  _ Not sooner?!

I break into a run. Faster, faster,  _ faster! _

_ What’s wrong? _

Xion’s eyes widen under her hood as I barrel into her. Knock her over.

“What’s-?”

The shadow moves enough. For me to see it clearly. The Silhouette. Returned to take revenge on the wielder of the Keyblade. Or me, I suppose. 

The ghost’s symbol swallows me up. Sand biting into my face, my flesh. 

“No!”

_ No! _

I don’t know it’s me or Xion screaming that. 

Only that I’ve gone into the Dark. 

(Again.)

Just like that. I’m back. In the horror land of broken glass tubing, pink lights, and a really awful looking ghost in the center. Floating over to devour me alive with that super bright eye spot.

Hm. Uh. 

Maybe this was a bad idea, after all. That eyeless Zexion looks pretty scary.

But better me than Xion. I steady my stance, shield out. 

_ Why are you fighting?  _ Vexen squawks.  _ You can’t win! _

“I’m fighting because-” I pause. Wait. Look the ghost over as it turns the pages. Not floating over to strangle right away like last time. For some reason. Hm. Wait.

...I’m so stupid. 

This isn’t a JRPG. Not anymore. I don’t  _ have  _ to fight the monsters, fight everything I run across because games don’t give you other options than that. I don’t have to run either. 

There are more than two choices, more than black and white on a chessboard. 

I swallow. I even have...have a name. 

“Ienzo!” I call out and the ghost  _ pauses.  _ The book in his hands closes up, as those empty sockets seem to fasten themselves to my face. Turning like he’s floating on air. 

“Ienzo!” I try again. 

He floats closer and reaches out. Ghostly fingers brushing up against my cheek. 

_ No!  _ A voice cries out from far away.

As for me?

I’m already falling. 

_ Loss is- _

Feels like dying, the air stolen from my lungs each pressing moment. 

_ Loss is- _

There are no hands around my throat choking my breath away. Not this time. 

_ Loss is- _

But I’m still losing my breath. Falling to my knees, head bowing, as the Dark thing that was once Zexion looms over me. Shadowy hands clenched around my shoulders. Dissolving like ash in the wind. 

Finally, I breathe but I breathe in that ash, that  _ Darkness _ and I am-  _ you are- _

_ You are the shortest in the Organization. You are not very strong, nor very fast. You summon only a book and not a real weapon like everyone else to fight with. You are not very good at feeding yourself and the others dislike caring for an extra burden that does nothing for the Organization. There has been discussion of Being Rid of You.  _

_ You are not very Useful and you know it.  _

_ The Organization needs Useful. They will not have you if you are not Useful.  _

_ There is a clenching in your gut. It is not a feeling because you are a Nobody and Nobodies do not have feelings. Besides, you don’t remember what “feeling” is like.  _

_ Whatever it is, it is not that because Nobodies do not feel.  _

_ Vexen has promised to make you Useful, if you listen to him.  _

_ But you do not think it is enough. Not soon enough.  _

_ Your fingers dig into your gloved palms. You need Useful right now. You cannot wait because they will Get Rid of You. Soon.  _

_ The whispers have been getting louder.  _

_ Something burns in your chest at the thought of being left to the Dark. Of there only being you, a state you have no words for.  _

_ You WANT.  _

_ You WANT with everything you are. _

_ And with your want, something comes. Images made of light, dance about the room. You recreate the past, paint it before your eyes.  _

_ You watch and it means nothing.  _

_ (It has to mean nothing.) _

_ When the others are shown... _

_ “An illusionist? How...useful,” the Superior says.  _

_ Thunder rises in your chest. Useful, Useful, that’s exactly what you need.  _

_ Useful you will be.  _

_ Loss is loneliness that you have no name for, no words. Only puppets made of light and shadow to keep you company, remind you of what lies behind you. It is the lies you tell, your cleverness, everything you have shaped yourself into being, to prove your worth.  _

_ It is knowing that no one will ever care for you again.  _

_ (That there are no more warm hands that will wrap around your very cold ones.) _

He’s eating me. Or what’s left of him is eating me. Pain, loss, sorrow, it’s a spiral. A whirlpool swallowing me up. 

A hungry ghost. 

So to get out, I give it something. A part of myself, enough to give myself breathing room, to dig myself out. Newly remembered, I give-

_ There is a small hand in mine. Warm and slightly dusty. Like my surroundings, warm and slightly dusty with the brightness of a California noon.  _

_ I glance down, at the little head by my side.  _

_ I’m not always the best big sister, but something inside of me gets all warm when I hold my little sister’s hand. Pulling her along, a bit.  _

_ She’s not smiling back, just...looking around. Taking in every possible sight. Curious and bright.  _

_ Which is okay. There is a lot to look at, after all. My baby sister isn’t the center of my world, and I’m definitely not hers.  _

_ Just...connected. Not alone.  _

_ Just for a moment.  _

_ Warm hand wrapped tight in mine.  _

_ (You’re not alone. Not anymore. You can take another’s hand once more.) _

I breathe and the world is here again. 

There is a new shield in my hands. A pearly grey with tortoiseshell blue patterns on the sides. Top and bottom edges with notches in them. Looking it over, my fingers running over the center catch more notches. A cross like a compass and two curves underneath. More dots. 

My eyes squint at them. Bluish. And gives the impression of the Nobody symbol, if I tilt my head just right. 

I know its name: Arrogant Abstract. 

And I cannot help the tears running down my face as I set it aside. Look up at the shadow that peels away, fades away, before my eyes. Moving on, that it has passed its burden to another. To me, who can do nothing but  _ know.  _

I reach out. “I’m sorry. I’m  _ so  _ sorry.” It is all I can do, apologizing, though I know what happened to that little boy was not my fault, was never my fault. 

That apology is the least he deserves, despite the monster that grew from his shadows. The monster that thought nothing of attempting to kill me. To kill Riku. 

I’m sorry that he became that. I’m sorry that I lost my sister, my world. 

I’m sorry that...what a world we live in. Yet isn’t that every world, full of grief, full of sorrow, a thousand stories untold and could have beens and never was-s. 

(“You’re nothing special. Everyone dies, eventually.” A thoughtful hum. “Perhaps I should end you right now. Save me the trouble.”)

My knees are on black Underworld stone now. 

“Ruse, what happened?” Hands on my shoulders. Cold hands, like the rest of this world. So very cold, like the breath whispering out of my lungs. 

Oh. I can breathe again. That’s good. 

_ Ruse...what did you give up? _

“Doesn’t matter. Never matters.” I focus on breathing. It feels nice, to have that back. Guess the shield’s cool too. 

“Mors!” Another voice. I look up, my fingers still tight around the edges of Arrogant Abstract. That curly brown hair, blue eyes...it’s Ema. But not Ema, it’s Xion-as-Ema, bright and nervous and  _ panicking.  _

What is she freaking out about now?

“Are you okay?!”

Blink. Ema’s face washes away, replaced by one just as young, with short black hair and blue-purple eyes...

Huh?

“Ruse!”

So many people, speaking my name. What’s going on? My head’s all fuzzy and weird feeling. Like, like...hm. I don’t know what it’s like. 

Maybe I’ll know another day. What it’s like. 

The shield vanishes from my fingertips. For now, I think I’m going to pass out. Flump. 

_ Ruse! _

* * *

Orange red wings flutter, as Rikku screws up her face. Looks over the stupid Garden place with its stupid smooth floors over again. 

At what has just suddenly changed. An alcove, humming to life. But the wrong kind of life, nothing Fey about it.

Blue, with a picture of a book floating there. The one labeled VI.

“Yuna? One of the doorways is glowing!”

* * *

For a minute, there’s a pressure in Xion’s chest. 

Pressure enough that she almost can’t breathe, under it. 

The man, Braska, holds Mors in his arms, Mosh hovering right over his shoulder. 

Xion asks quietly, “Is she okay?”

Mors took that... _ thing  _ for her. Why did she do that? 

Braska looks up, eyes unfocused in that way shared among pretty everyone who looks at her. Except Roxas and Axel. “She’ll be fine after some rest.”

Mosh’s wings twitch and shiver, like the red orb on his head. “Kupo, kupo. I’ll have to get her more Potions, if this is how Ruse treats herself...” the Moogle mutters to himself. 

Which brings Xion to another important revelation about Mors. Or rather...

“Her name is Ruse?” Xion can’t help but flinch at that. She’s been calling M-  _ Ruse  _ by the wrong name all this time. And Ruse saved her too!

There’s a hand on her shoulder. She almost shrugs free, but the look on Braska’s face stops her. “It’s alright. She would have told you soon.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

Something slowly trickles from Ruse’s nose, on her blank face. Dark...green? 

Braska provides the answer. “Blood.” He turns to Mosh. “We may need healing.”

Mosh bows midair. “Of course.”

Ruse, when claiming Xion as a “sister,” said they were of the same source. 

If they’re from the same source...then Xion must be what Mors is. Not a..Nobody. Her gloved hand clenches into a fist. 

Then what is she? Will she bleed green too?

What is Xion?

(What is she doing to her friends?)

“Can I help?”

Braska lifts Mors-  _ Ruse _ slightly in his arms. “Do you know any healing magic?”

“Just Cure. Will that work?” Xion takes a step closer to the two.

Right before Braska is about to speak, Mosh cuts in. “Not with possible brain damage, kupo! We’ll have to try a Remedy, possibly.”

Xion blinks. “You can hurt your brain?” Enough for it to start bleeding through your nose? That’s...

(A glove swiping under a nose. “I’m alright! Just a nosebleed!”)

Oh no. What has she done?

“Do you have anything that can help with that? How would I get more?”

Mosh’s right wing flicks as he gently pats Ruse’s cheeks. Taking a small cloth out to wipe away the green. “Uh, you could ask another Moogle. Kupo.”

Another Moogle? Xion frowns a little. Maybe she could talk to the Moogle in the Organization coat. Roxas talks to it all the time, he could help her. 

“Uuuuh.” Ruse wiggles, eyes fluttering. The tightness in Braska’s face lessens. Mosh lets out air, fluttering backwards out of the way. 

“Ruse!” Xion almost jumps in an attempt to get closer. 

“Oh, heya Xion?” Her fingers flutter. But it just might be Braska readjusting his grip. Ruse blinks. “Braska...are you carrying me?”

Braska nods. “I am.”

“Whoa. Didn’t expect that.” For a moment, Ruse only sits there quietly, slightly kicking her feet back and forth. “Hey, could you pick up Xion too?”

Xion blinks, tilting her head. “What?”

A gentle laugh. “Well, I’m no Auron...but I could try. Xion, would you mind?”

She really shouldn’t....her feet off the ground is always bad. But Ruse looks so comfortable there.

Safe.

Xion nods hesitantly. “Alright. You won’t drop me?”

“I will not,” Braska says quietly. He squats down, offering his free arm. On the other side, Ruse squirms until she’s holding onto Braska’s left shoulder. Cradled against the rest of his body. 

Looking so very small against Braska’s wide red robes. Wearing a head cloth that matches those same robes in color. 

“Yeah, drop me first,” Ruse agrees cheerfully. Like she hadn’t just been passed out a few minutes ago.

Mosh waves his paws about, red orb bobbing. “None will be dropped, kupo!”

Xion hesitates for another moment, but eventually she settles down on Braska’s arm. Perching on the edge. 

Braska shifts, allowing her to slide up against his body. Like Ruse’s current pose. Xion’s body jerks, as she desperately grasps at the cloth. 

The man freezes in place. Patiently waiting. Only when Xion is fully settled, chancing a nod, does he start moving again. 

Ruse/Mors starts chatting. Once again. “So how are you so strong? Not that I’m complaining...”

“Ruse, I am, for intents and purposes, a ghost. My strength is what I want from it.”

Ruse scratches at her head. “Oh yeah, I forgot about that...sorry.”

“It is what it is.”

“...What are we doing?” Xion asks. 

Ruse scratches at her scars. “I dunno, sitting on Braska? For funsies?”

Okay? Xion’s not sure how that’s fun, but...it’s okay. She guesses. Not having to run everywhere after someone with much longer legs. Braska is a bit cool, though. 

Ruse pats Braska on the shoulder. Points out of the cave, away from the Safe Point. “Now, to hunt monsters! For munny and snacks!”

That...Xion smiles. That sounds like fun, actually. Shooting Fire off of Braska might be good target practice. And not running after Heartless would be less tiring.

Maybe she’ll even be able to get more answers out of Ruse about what she is. 

Yeah. 

“Let’s do this.”

Ruse almost seems to glow as she smiles. Showing all her teeth. “Great! Now, do you know the song  _ Simple and Clean _ ...?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! Got some arts.   
> Thanks again to OragamiArrows for more art. This time, a meme!  
> https://paperbulletsoragamiarrows.tumblr.com/post/621374763210883073/more-art-from-the-tell-me-that-im-real-fanfic  
> And for the new shield Arrogant Abstract.  
> https://beastenraged.tumblr.com/post/621402676964556801/arrogant-abstract-magic-x3-strength-x1-abstracts


	28. Underdog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Riku almost dies, DiZ is awful with teenagers, and Xion fears for her friends' lives. 
> 
> So, same old, same old. Time for our Hero to go on a Rescue Mission!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for serious dehumanization of Nobodies.

“Soooo...” Riku draws out the word far too long. “You had a fist-fight with a ghost and that’s how you got a new shield.”

I shrug. “Essentially.”

“How does that even _happen?”_ Riku shakes his head. He also gestures (kind of dramatically) off to the side at my other object companion. “And why a...cantaloupe?” He checks with me.

I nod. “Yeah. A cantaloupe.”

My fingers scratch along my cheek, my scars. 

“Merlin gave it to me...something about more copper.” I tap my chin. “Which is weird, cantaloupe has lots of potassium, not copper.” 

The melon is nice and round. I pat it. Firm. I bet it’s pretty juicy too. Tasty. 

I’ll have it later. After Vexen’s done lecturing me about the dangers of accepting fruit baskets from strange wizards, even if the strange wizard is Merlin. 

_Especially_ if it’s Merlin. 

I kinda see his point...but it’s Vexen. I don’t want him to be right about that. 

“What do you do with a cantaloupe?” Naminé asks. She’s been looking much healthier than she used to, _brighter_ almost. 

Less afraid. 

It’s...good. Her safe happiness rests as a heavy warmth in my heart. 

“Eat it. But I wanna test out my new shield first. That okay?” I check. 

Naminé nods. Then pauses, almost hesitating. “Do you want my help?”

“Of course!” I make my smile as big and as bright as I can. Still so nervous about everything...I _hate_ it. She deserves better. 

Vexen’s silence is a heavy lump in the back of my skull. I can’t tell what for, so I’m just gonna ignore it. Like I usually do. 

“Here it is!” My new shield, my Arrogant Abstract, comes straight away to my left hand at my call. Ready for Naminé and Riku to look it over again. This time, a bit more...physically? Experimentally? Something. 

It’s somewhat lighter than Frozen Pride. Less weight for me to smash monsters with. Since that’s how I fight usually, I think I’m probably going to stick with using Frozen Pride for the time being.

Vexen _preens,_ in response to my very loud thoughts _._ I frown. Butt. Focus on thinking more quietly, I swear he’s picking more and more up from me...

“Does it have a special ability?” Riku asks. “Different from your other shield?”

I look Arrogant Abstract over. “Hm...I dunno. Doesn’t actually come with a manual, you know.”

Naminé holds out her hands. “May I try?”

“Uh.” I glance at my shield again. “Let me try something first.”

Put out my other hand, focus on that “emptiness”... ice still forms on my hand. Even without me holding Frozen Pride. 

Huh. Guess my Ice isn’t reliant on what shield I have. Guess that ruins my plans of getting different elemental magics by beating up Organization ghosts (kidding but also not). Let the ice melt, let it drip away. “Huh.”

Shrug. “Guess my magic’s not tied to which shield I have. Here you go.” Hand it over. I’m half-expecting for Arrogant Abstract to poof away and land right back in my hand, like Keyblades do. It doesn’t. 

There’s a warmth in me now, though. Probably Naminé related. 

Naminé accepts my gift with a nod. 

She gestures and casts Zero Gravity with her free hand. After tapping something by her side? Huh. But the Zero Gravity grabs all my attention. 

Like always, I feel the familiar pane of envy. Be so _cool_ to cast that spell...

But it's bigger somehow. I frown. Is she casting Zero Graviga instead? That’s some improvement. 

Naminé’s eyes brighten. “Ah, I thought so!”

“...What just happened?” Riku asks, teal eyes scrutinizing Arrogant Abstract. 

“It boosted my magic!” Naminé explains. “Made my Zero Gravity more powerful!”

Oooh. I frown. “But that’s kinda useless to me. I don’t really...” Do magic. Other than Ice, but I’m not sure that counts.

Naminé tugs at the edge of her skirt. “That’s true...but I could use it. Maybe?” She looks so hopeful, I can’t say no to that face. 

“Of course!”

Naminé smiles and it’s like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. “Thank you!”

I grin back. “Yep.”

Well, now that we’re done, I’m craving cantaloupe. Time to have some!

Only one problem with that, actually. 

I frown. “Aaand...I don’t have a knife to chop it up with. Great.”

Might have to ask DiZ about that...but I don’t want to ask DiZ. He’s such a grump about everything, especially anything relating to Organization XIII. There’s gotta be another way that doesn’t involve him. 

“Riku has a sword,” Naminé pipes up with, tapping at her spell pack thing at her side. 

“Ah, that’s true.” Hm, about that...

_That is a terrible idea._

Probably. But not as bad as an idea putting red dye in a bathtub. _That_ was poorly planned.

_Wait, what?_

I cup my hands around my mouth. Calling out very dramatically, like a sports announcer or the Coliseum announcer. “Hey, Riku! Wanna cut up my melon with your sword?”

Riku considers my question. Not for very long. 

“Toss it!” He shouts, as he’s moving away from me. Across the room. “I want to see if I can catch it with my sword!”

“Yeah, like Fruit Ninja! Let’s do it!” This is going to be _awesome,_ especially since Riku actually knows how to use a sword properly so he can probably actually hit a flying melon. And possibly cut through it. 

Riku readies his stance as I ready my own. His sword’s out, I’m about to toss the fruit underhanded.

Naminé watches with bated breath. Her interest thrums in my veins.

_Lunes above. This is not going to turn out well._

“Go!” I throw the cantaloupe. Not as hard as I can, that would be pretty dumb of me. But pretty hard, so the melon has enough heft for Riku to whack it. Sorta like a baseball. 

...I might not actually be able to eat the melon after this. 

(Worth it.)

“What are you _doing?”_

DiZ. Of course it’s DiZ. Who else would randomly walk in here and start shouting at everyone?

Riku jerks in place. Moves just enough that he’s not ready anymore. The cantaloupe is in the air now, I can’t stop it. 

I watch in horrified shock as the fruit _whacks_ Riku right in the head. Knocks him over flat, right onto the floor. Somehow, the cantaloupe remains whole. Riku, on the other hand...

Oh no.

He’s not moving.

“Riku’s _fuckin’ dead_.”

* * *

  
  


DiZ was not expecting to walk in on children _throwing melons at each other._

Or for Riku, normally very responsible, to be part of it. Getting hit by the melon in question right in the head. Requiring DiZ to give him medical attention. 

These children sometimes...

Since it looks like a concussion...an Ether will assist riding Riku of the Stun condition, as well as boost his innate mana. The rest will simply take time. 

“Why in the worlds did you think that was a good idea?”

The replica shuffles her feet, not meeting his eyes. “Well...it would have been fine if you hadn’t walked in.”

DiZ battles the urge to put his head in his hands. He is somewhat successful, face-palming instead.

Lunes, it’s like talking to Even or Braig all over again. No matter how much it hurts to think of those names, that is simply the best comparison DiZ has right now. 

“That does not make it a good idea,” he flatly states. 

Naminé looks like she’s about to cry, eyes reddish, and her usual glow dims. How very human of her. “Is he going to be okay?”

“Thankfully, yes. But it could have been worse.”

Not that DiZ thinks that a cantaloupe would be able to do _permanent_ damage. But he needs these children to think ahead before something more dangerous occurs. 

The replica eyes him, like she doesn’t trust what he’s saying. 

Which is fine. He doesn’t _need_ her trust, not when she’s so intent on staying around despite that lack of trust, and doesn’t argue with him. 

It’s fine. 

(It has to be fine.)

“Riku, how do you feel?”

The boy blinks. “...Dizzy. It’s bright.”

DiZ sits back with a sigh. “Rest for a few more hours and those symptoms should go away.”

“Riku, maybe you should go to your room?” Namien suggests. 

Riku shakes his head. “No, I want to see Sora first...”

“Alright.”

When the pair leave, the replica makes to follow them. 

DiZ points at her. “No, you will st-”

“I have a _name._ ” A dark purple-eyed glare. “Use it.”

DiZ’s throat works silently. “ _Ruse_ ,” he eventually spits out. 

The replica nods, satisfied. “Good. Whatcha want? Is it being more careful? Cuz I got that _handled.”_

Yes, but...something about her posture, the way she moves. Why is it so familiar? “I trust you are eating well?”

The replica stares at him, jaw dropping. “I can’t believe you of all people just asked me that. You don’t care.”

“If you are seriously injured, then Naminé would withdraw her assistance. Of course I am concerned.”

Wrong answer, judging by the way the replica straightens up and glares at him like she’s about to set him on fire. 

Oh, _that’s_ the similarity. Even. Why must he continue to haunt him...?

“I don’t need your help. And if you hurt Naminé...” Her eyes narrow. “I’ll kick your butt.” With that threat, the replica swirls her Dark Suit’s skirt and leaves. Very dramatically. 

DiZ almost groans, rubbing at his covered forehead. 

Why must children be so... _difficult?_

* * *

Xion hums the song Ruse taught her under her breath. As quietly as she can manage it, since she doesn’t want to get in trouble with Saïx again. Or anyone else, for that matter. 

Her mind whirls with different ideas, different thoughts. 

As a whole, nothing has changed. She still eats ice-cream with Roxas and Axel. Still gets ignored by everyone else most of the time. Still has Saïx refusing to believe anything she says and giving her hard missions. 

But something _has_ changed. Though no one else knows, in the Organization. 

Look around carefully. Can she...?

Yes. It’s empty. Except for the Organization Moogle. 

Just who she needs. 

Saïx is gone for once from the Grey Area. Everyone else is on their missions, including Roxas and Axel. Demyx has probably left for the Underworld already, waiting for her. 

It’s just her. And the Moogle in the Organization coat. 

Xion steadies her breathing. Click-clack go her heels as she walks quickly across to the floor. Straight to the Moogle. 

It turns in her direction. 

She clears her throat. Time to ask something _really_ important. 

“What’s your name?”

The Moogle floats there for a moment, before giving its clearly rehearsed response. 

“My name is of no importance, kupo.”

Same thing as always. But this time...

“It’s important to me.”

Another pause. The Moogle tilts its hooded head in her direction. Watching her, waiting for her to go away. 

But Xion stands her ground. Waits. Keeps her eyes on the Moogle. 

Until it gives in the end. 

“You may call me Stiltzkin.”

“Stiltzkin...” Xion tries out the name syllable by syllable. “That’s a tough name.”

“For humans, yes,” Stilzkin agrees calmly. Watching her. 

“...Can I ask you something?”

“You already are, kupo.”

Xion blinks. Oh. She didn’t think of it like that, but the Moogle’s right. She looks down, tugging at her gloves. Her lift palm, hidden, burns They always burn these days, her hands. But this is a fresher hurt than usual. 

A light breath. “...Go ahead. Ask another.”

Xion lets out a breath of her own. Here she goes. She doesn’t really _want_ to ask this inside of the Castle, but...she needs to ask a Moogle this and she isn’t sure where any others are (outside of Mosh, who is Ruse’s Moogle). 

“...Do you know what I am?”

The Moogle’s red orb wobbles as it floats closer. Face as emotionless as ever. Maybe Moogles are like Nobodies, and have no hearts. “Explain, kupo. What leaves you thinking a Moogle knows that?”

Xion almost bites her lip.Do Moogles talk to each other? She thinks they do. 

“Mosh said I could ask another Moogle. For help.” For Remedies, but surely Mosh wouldn’t be upset if she asked about different stuff instead?

Or this Moogle wouldn’t?

Stiltzkin hums. Or huffs. “I see. This is about the Ruse Being, kupo.”

Xion flinches, at that name being so readily said. Oh, so it _does_ know. “I want to know...” she trails. Well, she wants to know how to stop killing her friend. If she’s also possibly killing her second friend, too. But Stiltzkin probably won’t know the answer to that. 

Knowing what Ruse is, and what _Xion_ herself is, will help her figure that out.

Hopefully. 

“I want to know who I am,” she settles on. Who is she a Nobody of? Does Ruse have a Nobody, or a Somebody?

The Moogle’s wings make rustling noises, as they fold up against its coat. Yet Stlitzkin keeps floating, even without the wings spread out. Like a Heartless. “I can’t help you with that, kupo, unless you tell me more.” 

Xion swallows. Fights the urge to push her hair back behind her ears. It’s too short to do that very well, anyways. “What do you want to know?”

“What do _you_ know, kupo?” Stiltzkin counters. “Your blood, your name, your origin? Share it with me, kupo.”

Does she want to tell this stranger her secrets? Before her friends?

No. But this is the best choice Xion can make. 

At least this way this will only hurt herself. Not Roxas, not Axel. Just her. 

(She’s the only one that deserves to be hurt.)

Xion rolls up her sleeve, on her left arm. Peels down her glove. Shoves the peering Moogle her palm. The cut that she put there, after her last meeting with Ruse.

Her blood is dark, but not as dark as Roxas’ or Axel’s. No, it gleams green under the lowlight of the Grey Area. The same green as Ruse’s. 

A sudden intake of air. Stiltzkin shoots up in the air, about the height of her head. 

“Go to Mosh, kupo. Demand from him, the story of Charity and the Master of Mystery. Kupo, _demand it._ ” There’s a vibrancy in Stiltzkin’s words, lacking the restraint everything else it’s said has had. 

“Can’t you tell it now?” This story...what it is about, it must be important. Xion can feel her fake heart quicken. It might be the story of who she is. 

Stiltzkin’s entire body shakes. “Too dangerous, kupo. Too many unfriendly hearers, kupo.”

Xion frowns, tilting her head. What? Saïx may be mean, but everyone else is fine most of the time. Well, except for Xigbar. And the Superior is never around. What’s wrong?

“And when you have it...don’t come back, Xion. Not to the Organization. It will kill you.”

“Wh-?”

Stiltzkin gives her a shove. Not enough to move here, not when the Moogle weighs even less than a Keyblade. But enough to surprise her, get her to be quiet. 

“Go on your mission. Never come back,” it repeats and then says no more. 

Xion blinks back the wetness she can feel threatening to well out of her eyes, as she turns on her heel. Can’t lose precious water as she rushes away. 

For even a _Moogle_ to tell her it doesn’t want her around...

What kind of monster _is_ she?

* * *

  
  


Stiltzkin breathes. Just barely managing to without letting out the necessary air they need to float. 

Just barely. 

This _stupid_ Organization...how _dare_ they. Creating one such as Xion and leaving her with no support, no way to feed? 

Idiots. The truest of morons. 

Honestly, they can’t wait until the day they hand over all of their careful maps of the Castle to some hero, tell that hero each and every one of the weaknesses of the place. Of the _Monsters_ that live here. 

Abominations. World-destroying abominations that deserve to be forgotten...

Breath. 

Not yet, not yet. 

Keep to the appointed task, selling goods at far too high prices and stealing munny and info whenever possible. 

Avenge Moogle-kind.

Mosh wants hope too badly. _Without_ looking at the facts. What a foolish thing to do, but how very...Mosh of him. 

Ignoring the reality that this Ruse and Xion only exist because the Nobodies committed the worst of the crimes: _taking the Moogle Recipe._ Destroying the Moogle homeworld, preventing there from ever being anymore Moglets or Moogles..countless crimes. 

Filthy beasts. 

The young ones do not deserve it. Any of this. 

Two Nobodies that exist after the Fall, that are too young to escape the chains..for them, Stiltzkin will lower their prices. 

But _only_ them. 

And rather, one young Nobody and another...

“What do you call a Charity in human shape?” Stiltzkin muses out loud. Still very, very quietly. Never know what the filthy Nobodies might pick up. 

Does the girl even have the proper markings, like the blood she holds? Or did her maker take that from her too? 

_As the Moogles are of the Day Realms, so would Charity be of the Night._ Or so the story went. 

Questions, questions, like the ones Xion herself wanted answered. 

She should run. Nobodies cannot Dream, after all. And a Dream dies without Dreamers to Dream it. Run and live. 

She should not be here among this den of beasts. 

(Not like him, who deserves it. For failing his people.)

* * *

Another day in the Underworld, another fight. 

I stroll by Mosh, giving him a wave as I head to above ground. To the arena. 

“Heya, Mosh! How you doing?”

The Moogle hums. “Well enough. Yourself?”

I stretch out my arms behind my head. Pop my joints. “Pretty good, thanks.” Another wave. “See ya.”

When I’m almost there, about to hit the stairs up...well, there’s two individuals ahead. One pinkish and one greenish. 

Oh, Pain and Panic are here in _person_ today? Hm.

Something’s up.

I give the imps my most dramatic bow. “How may I assist you today?”

“Oh, you’re here, Mors!” 

Pain rubs his claws together. “We need to..chat. About how you’re the underdog of the arena. And a favorite.”

...What?

“You’re top dog!” Panic chirps. 

“...I thought you were just saying I was the underdog.”

Panic waves his stick-thin arms about. “You are! And that’s what the people love!”

“...Alright. Go on, explain.” I do a little wave to encourage the imp along. Not that he needs that encouragement. 

His claws wiggle about, mimicking my “spooky spooky magic” gesture almost. “Your air of mystery has _everyone_ talking about you. Builds up the hype!”

“Gets us more munny,” Pain adds. He grins, mismatched fangs bared wide. “And favors!”

Ah. But the imps want something. Wouldn’t be bringing this up, or be here, if they didn’t. 

I tap my foot. Discreetly, of course. “So you want me to do what with my underdog rep now?”

“Claim the glory of the Coliseum for the Boss, of course! Now that Hercules is gone!”

Hercules is gone? Huh. Didn’t know he left the Coliseum so early in Days, looking for the extra buddy. The extra buddy that Phil thought was Roxas...maybe I’ll get to see Roxas again.

Hm. 

That’ll be weird. And I don’t know if that would be a good thing or not. Claim the glory, too? Not sure how that’ll work. 

I tap my fingers against my shield. “Sure. What’s the boss’ plan? What do I do?”

Pain grins even wider, inhumanly wider. “Fight some more!”

“Fight all the monsters instead of Hercules!” Panic cheers. 

All right. Sounds simple enough. Don’t really want to fight a possible Hydra, but...I’m doing this to help Braska. 

And for scraps I pick off the Heartless, of course.

“Alright, I’ll do that. When do I start?”

Pain and Panic exchange yellow-eyed looks. “Today, of course,” they say in unison. 

“Oh.” Of course. I blink. When else would they tell me this, except for the day it starts? Bad business practices, for keeping any long term employees, but Hades is their boss after all. I wouldn’t expect any better. 

“I’ll prep first,” I decide. “Then go.” 

Panic nods so fast he looks like a bobble-head. “Of course, of course!”

Two finger salute. “So, see you up there. Bye!”

Get out of here, as fast as I can. Need to talk to Braska about this, before I get myself into trouble. Well, _more_ trouble. 

I don’t wanna to fight monsters! I’m no hero, no Sora, no Riku!

Maybe he’ll have an idea...?

_Perhaps, you could give up this charade and stop fighting for munny. You don’t need it, with the way the Moogles assist you_

I grimace. “That’s not the point! The point is I need to defend myself. So, you know, what happened to you doesn’t happen to _me.”_

A block of ice in my veins. Well, that’s right. Kind of a low blow, but Vexen deserves it. I don’t deserve having him stuck in my head. 

Or maybe I do.

I did just knock out Riku with a cantaloupe. Ugh. 

Focus. Find Braska. 

Braska, surprisingly, is not around Demyx. Or Mosh. I find him near the _big_ door, the one that leads to...Hades’ lair, if I’m recalling correctly. 

Looking off wistfully into the distance. 

Okay. 

I can do this. 

Slide over all casual-like. “Sooo, Braska, how’s it going?”

“I need to get Auron out.”

Oh. Yes, that would be a good thing to do. Something I _really_ want to do myself, actually. “Today?” 

Braska turns, looking me over very seriously. “There is a serious tournament going on today. This will be the best time, with the least amount of guards.”

Ah. I scratch at my face. “Ah, about that...?

After some serious explanation, Braska looks a little sad but firm. His usual look. “I will do it on my own, then.”

Put out my hands. “Of course not! I said I was gonna help, didn’t I?”

“But they will notice and punish you if you are not there,” Braska points out. Which is a solid point and one I have not been trying to think about ever since the entire “do it for the boss” thing came up. 

_You know this would not be an issue if you did not fight for Hades, correct?_

Shut up. Not the point, but it is the point. Pointedly? Whatever. 

I nibble at my lip. Scratch, scratch. At least, until Braska gently lifts my hand away from my face. Ergh. Summon out Arrogant Abstract so my hands will be distracted, have something to do. Instead of scratching. “Sooo, we just need a lookalike for myself. Who can fight just like me.”

“Or you co-”

“Oh, Ruse, Braska, there you are!” Aha! Xion, rushing over. Looking like the way I remember her from the games, black hair and blue eyes and all that. It’s...nice. Better than seeing my sister who is no longer my sister. 

(Who I will never see again.)

Wait...look alike who fights just like me...who could do that better than another replica?

I leap forward, grab Xion’s gloved hands in my own. Hm, warm. 

“Hey, Xion, can you replacemeinthefights?”

Xion blinks. “What?”

Braska shakes his head. “That is-”

“A wonderful idea, let me explain!”

 _Neither one of you should fight,_ Vexen grouches in the background. Grump. 

“So. This a good idea or what?”

“Or what might be more accurate, Ruse.” Braska is lifting an eyebrow. Oh man, he’s _lifting an eyebrow_ at me. 

I throw up my hands. “C’mon, it’s for a greater cause! For _Auron.”_

Braska doesn’t quite flinch at that, but there’s some kind of movement going under those flowing robes of his. Ghost stuff, you know?

“The audience will be far enough away that they wouldn’t notice anything is off! Not if Xion’s got my shield and a really bright bandana on.”

Xion rubs her gloved hands together. “Uh, Ruse? I need to ask Mosh something.”

“Okay, okay, I can grab him for you. But...” I give her my best puppy dog eyes. “Can you fight for me?”

_Something’s different._

Xion shuffles her feet. “Without my Keyblade?”

“Yeah, it would be kinda pointless to pretend to be me if the new me had a new weapon. Or something like that.” Did the words even make sense? Grammar is hard. 

_What’s different? You need to find out._

Shut up, Vexen. You don’t just _ask_ people about stuff like that. Hopefully talking to Mosh will fix her problem, whatever it is. 

“But how am I supposed to hold your shield?” Blue eyes look even more worried than before. 

Walk over to her, plop the shield in her gloved hands. “Like this!”

And just like that, once my hands leave the Arrogant Abstract’s surface, Xion loses her black eyes and purple-blue eyes. 

Looks like Ema again. 

My throat burns. 

_Oh no._

Blink. Nope. Still looks like my little sister. 

Maybe Arrogant Abstract negates Xion’s weird look-like-different-people thing? That’s a thought, especially since Zexion did illusions...

_That is a solid theory actually backed up with facts. Excellent job._

I cannot tell if that is sarcasm or not. Time for more ignoring, I guess. 

That’s pretty handy to know. And more useful than apparent increased magic. Oh, I should tell Xion about that!

I jerk a thumb at the weapon in question, still held by Xion like it’s gonna break. Like it’s glass. “Hey, when you use that, your spells will have a bit of a boost, so just be careful, got it?”

Xion narrows her (Ema’s) eyes. She nods firmly. “Got it.”

Grin, shoot her a double thumbs-up. “I knew I could count on you!”

Her face flushes as she looks away. 

I snap my fingers. “But hey, you still need a bandana! Which one of mine do you want?”

The cloths come out. Green, red, and purple...hm, maybe not purple since Naminé picked that one for me. Leave red and green. 

Xion points to the red one right away. “That one.”

I nod approvingly. “Excellent choice.”

I step up to her, wrap it around her head. Feel her stiffen underneath my touch, so I tie a loose knot and step away as quickly as possible. “That work?”

Braska slips his hands into his sleeves. “...Surprisingly.”

I droop dramatically. “C’mon, you gotta have more trust in me!”

Braska graces me with a small smile. “I trust you with my life.”

Trust you with my life. My heart burns. Feels full. I can barely bring myself to nod back, whisper words. “Yeah. Thanks. Should we try it?”

“I’ll be waiting,” Xion supplies. Still looks nervous, the fingers of her free hand reaching to touch the soft red cloth but also...she looks good in red. Or does Ema look good in red? Hm, maybe I shouldn’t overthink this too much. 

I give her a short hug. Not long enough to make Xion afraid at all. “You look great. Thank you so much.”

“See you after, then?”

“Yes, of course!” I pause. “Do you want to talk to Mosh now?” 

Xion shakes her head. “No, I can do it after.”

“Alright.” I turn to Braska. Still waiting patiently. 

“I’m ready now.”

Smile.

“Let’s go save Auron.”

 _This will end poorly,_ Vexen grumbles. 

Shut up. 


	29. Unforeseen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our Hero argues with it, Auron derides it, Riku brushes by it, and Xion has a head-on collision with it.  
> What is it?
> 
> Fate.

The Real Problem with the Underworld is that everything looks the same. 

With my poor sense of direction, it’s a literal living Hell among the mists and shimmering soul lights. And rocks. Lots and lots of rocks. 

Good thing Braska knows the way, then. Because I certainly don’t. 

Where we’re going...there’s not a lot of monsters, surprisingly. Hades hounds, Slimes...they’ve all been scared away by some  _ greater  _ beast. Really, there’s no point in guessing what beast that is. 

Braska and I both know what monster guards Tartarus. 

No need to talk about it. 

“Sooo, we gonna break in or what?”

Braska glides over yet another obstacle of rocks while I’m forced to clamber over them. You know, regular ghost stuff. It’s easy to forget, until he does really ghosty stuff. 

“I think in this case, it would be better for me to plan this out.”

“No fair,” I pout. Fake one, of course. It’s actually pretty relieving for Braska to take charge here, since I don’t know anything about Tartarus and its defenses. 

Beyond the obvious, that is. 

Silence as Braska thinks through his plot. We get closer and closer, and he at last seeks when we’re outside that cave-room thing that looks kinda like a skull. Near Hades’ throne room. 

“I need you to distract the Fates.”

I tilt my head. “Hm?”

Braska slides his hands into his sleeves as he explains. “To get to Tartarus, the Fates need to be out of the way. Otherwise, they will guess why I am there and tell the god of the Underworld.”

Humming, I nod at that. Makes sense. “I’ll do it.” 

Braska smiles. “Thank you.” Then he slides off to the side, letting me make my way to the large doors. 

To the place where the Fates wait inside, where Tartarus lies. 

Just distract the Fates, huh? Air whistles out from between my teeth as I rub my gloved hands together. I can do this. I got this. 

_ If you need... _ Vexen starts, awfully hesitant. 

I shake my head. That’s all. Don’t even bother saying anything. Not sure if he can pick that up, but...

I don’t want his help. 

I don’t need it. 

Take a step forward, into sight. Clear my throat. “Ahem.”

The three turn to face me right away. Allowing Braska to walk briskly past them, towards the depths of Tartarus. Good. That’s good. Now just to keep the Fates’ attention on me for long enough...

“You’re an odd creature,” the tallest woman(?) says snootily, blue and trailing cobwebs from her black robes. 

I blink. “You’re one to talk,” the words fall out of my mouth, as I look the strange...people over. The three Fates, from the movie Hercules. I...don’t know their names. Well, kinda? I know one name,  _ Clotho,  _ she with the shears (I think?) but I don’t know which one is her among these three. 

“Why, I never!” That same blue woman huffs, shaking her head. Her eyeless sockets seem to rip into my heart with their stare. Despite the lack of eyes. 

“No, you’re the strange one,” the medium green Fate agrees, shaking her head. “You’re not supposed to be here, this time.”

“Not in threes, like the rest, but in twos...” the short plump one notes, clawed purple hand on her chin. She looks me over with that singular red staring eye. Yellow and icky, pupil red as blood. Staring right through me,  _ into  _ me. 

Before it’s snatched out of her skull by one of her sisters. “Let me see!” 

“No, give it back!”

Holy crap. I swallow at the unusual sight. Maybe I should leave? No, the purple one’s still... _ looking  _ at me. With the eyes she hasn’t got. 

While Blue and Green squabble, the Purple Fate counts off her fingers. “Two lives, two souls, two ghosts, of two bloods...two, two, two!”

_ What?  _

Ah, time for the weird nonsense that always makes sense later. That’s how it usually goes in a story, at least. Not sure about how that’ll  _ actually  _ work for me. 

We’ll see. 

The fighting grows intense enough that the eyeball gets  _ dropped.  _ It flings through the air, landing right at my feet. 

“Ew!”

“Give it back! Give it back!” All three shriek, making their way towards me. Uh oh. 

But hey, what’s more distracting for the Fates than asking about one’s own Fate?

I scoop up the eyeball. It’s...warm. Slightly squishy. Squish squish in my hand, like a stress ball. Staring at me, unlike a stress ball. 

Ewwww.

I toss it into the air, and catch it again. Slimy gross thing. “I’ll give it back...if you answer some questions of mine.”

_ This is poorly thought out.  _

Hmmm. Doesn’t matter. 

“Only one!” The blue one puts up a finger. 

“Very well, one,” I agree. Squish the eyeball a little bit more in my hand. 

There’s only one question that I  _ really  _ want to know the answer to at this point. I swallow, hands curling up into fists by my side. One curling up around the eyeball. My mouth is dry. 

“How can I save Roxas and Xion? Both of them?”

“An answer for the eye! The eye! The eye!” The three almost chant in unison. 

Alrighty then. Toss it back, to the purple Fate, who instantly shoves it in her skull.

I wait for my answer. For whatever future may lie ahead. My shoulders are tense. 

“Whichever you choose...” the first, the Purple with the eye, starts. 

The second cackles. “You’ll lose!”

“Both the reflection and the original that spawned it,” the third Fate finishes. “Two for one, just like you!”

Wait, no. That can’t be it!

“But you didn’t answer my question!” I protest. “I want to  _ save  _ them, not lose them! Both!”

“What are you willing to lose, little odd pet?” the green Fate asks, peering at me curiously with the eye. Squawking as her blue sister pulls it out and shoves in her own skull, huffing once again. 

“No more questions! We filled our end!”

“But you  _ didn’t _ .” I glare, arms folded over my chest. “I asked how do I save both? Not lose anyone!”

Purple cackles, shaking her head and green tendrils on it shaking. “That’s the answer, you  _ can’t _ .”

What?

_ What? _

“No, that can’t be it.” Didn’t they trick Hades by not telling him everything, in the original Hercules movie? Like Macbeth-style? There’s gotta be more I’m missing. I think it through, foot tapping, teeth threatening to bite through my lip. 

I asked how I can save both. How  _ I  _ can _.  _ “So I can’t save them, but someone else can?”

“Oh, what a clever little pet!” the green Fate laughs, while her two sisters fistfight behind her over the eyeball. Clawing and hissing like a pair of alley cats. 

“Uh.” Again with this calling me a “pet” thing. Like I’m an animal. “I’m not anyone’s  _ pet.” _

The Green Fate giggles again, putting her mouth over her toothless mouth. 

“Are we not all pets to something greater than us? No choice really matters in the end.”

That...

I can’t let that stand. Vexen is quiet, which is good. I don’t think I could stand him butting in too. 

“I have to believe our choices matter. I  _ have to.”  _

Otherwise...what would be the point? No matter what people say, we all act like we have choices, that choices matter. Even the people who talk all about fate and the future and stuff like that. 

“Brave pet... _ foolish  _ pet.” Those up turned lips pucker into a frown on a blue face. “Maybe another’s choices will matter. But you?”

“You have never had a choice. And never will, pet!” Green adds, almost gleefully. 

“Only the choice of who holds your chain,” Purple agrees. 

Who holds my chain? What could that mean? My Fate can’t be determined, I’ve been changing so many already...

I shake my head, hair flying everywhere, bandana kinda flopping about. No. I can’t let them win this. I have to believe I can change what goes wrong. 

I  _ have to.  _

(Otherwise...what is the point?)

* * *

Tartarus...it’s the same as it has always been. A mess of green and screaming, every trapped spirit tearing at one another. Difficult to keep one’s self whole in this, yet Auron manages nonetheless. 

The three times that Auron has been trapped here have all been the same. Mostly. At least Braska isn’t trapped with him this time. 

One would think that Hades would have gotten more creative with security, the amount of times Auron has broken free. But gods are rather uncurious as a whole. Auron heavily doubts the god of the dead even knows his name. 

Which suits him quite well, of course.

A hand, thrust into the green. 

Auron  _ knows  _ that hand. 

He reaches for it and a familiar individual in red pulls him free. 

“ _ Braska,”  _ Auron breathes. The slime of so many other souls, of rage and fear, slides off of him as he leans on his friend. 

“Auron...are you alright?”

Auron closes his eyes. Just like Braska, to worry about Auron but not himself. “I should be asking you the same question.”

Braska hums. Grabs Auron’s arm and pulls him upright. 

“We need to hurry.”

Auron lifts an eyebrow. Yes, but this level of concern about the situation is more than what the usually unruffled Braska shows. “What’s changed since I last saw you?”

“There’s a child. To get you...she’s distracting the Fates.”

A child...so is Braska starting to remember what he forgot? What he traded away?

“You left a  _ child  _ with the  _ Fates?”  _ Auron shakes his head. “Words can be even more dangerous than  _ here _ , Braska.”

Braska lowers his eyes. “I know. But that risk is better than having her in the dangers of Tartarus.”

A daughter, at that. Braska is  _ truly  _ recalling something. 

“What’s her name?”

“Ruse.” The answer comes quickly, like Braska can barely hold himself back. 

Auron hums.

Not quite what he was expecting...but that will do. Anything to get Braska out of the depths of despair he had been for a...very long time. 

“We should hurry, then.”

Sneaking out is simple enough. If one knows how (and does so quietly), one can properly hide their scent and not alert the god’s great guard dog at all. 

The difficulty of escaping Tartarus has always been getting in, after all. 

Leaving is...far less difficult. 

Especially if there is a friend holding out a hand to pull an individual out of Tartarus’ ever churning pit of souls. 

Auron leans on Braska on the way out. Until they’re out and Braska leaves. Just for a moment, to grab the child, this Ruse. 

Auron waits, eyes half closed. 

Not that it matters, he can only see out of one anyway. 

The steps alert him to their presence. Braska in bright red, and the much smaller figure following close behind him. 

“Ruse...are you alright?” Braska turns to ask. 

“Just peachy,” is the child’s reply, somewhat muffled by the fact she’s chewing on the inside of her cheek. 

She wears armor strangely patterned with blue, black, and red. Along with a cream battle-skirt. Ready for a fight. The thick clusters of scars across that small face attest to the fact that she’s already been in at least one. Her purple head scarf seems to be hiding more, that peek out from underneath her hair. 

All children had to be ready for war, back when Auron lived. He hoped that his and Braska’s sacrifices would have changed that...but it seems some things can never be changed. Not for good. 

Braska may be trying to protect Ruse from danger. But it may already be too late. 

Danger has a habit of seeking out those who have already encountered it at least once. 

“It’s just...” The girl hesitates, for a second, before speaking her thoughts. “Destiny isn’t guaranteed, right? What the Fates say...isn’t always true?”

“You shouldn’t listen to them.” Auron breathes out through his nose. Unnecessary. The dead don’t need to breathe. But habit is a powerful force. 

The Fates and their poisonous words...they already took Braska once from him. He won’t let them take this child too. 

“Your life is  _ your  _ story. No one can determine that but yourself.” Auron taps Ruse’s chest. “ _ You  _ make your own choices. No one else does that for you. Whether that changes fate...well, that is up to you.”

Ruse looks up at him, purple-blue eyes wide. She rubs her chest, the same spot he just tapped. Looking so terribly young. 

(Everyone is young to him, these days. Everyone but Braska.)

Then she laughs. “Whoa, you’re a pretty cool guy. I needed to hear that.” A bright wide smile. “Thanks!”

Auron nods. Careful to keep a smile off of his face. 

When keeping one from danger was not possible... _ preparing  _ them was the next best thing. Something that Braska has always struggled to learn. 

(He thought that leaving his wife, to save his people, would fix everything...but Auron knows for a fact, that it didn’t.)

(Even if his old friend didn’t remember that any longer.)

“Huh, it’s kinda weird that nothing’s attacked us...” Ruse muses out loud.

Auron resists the urge to heave a sigh of his own. Doesn’t need to, when Braska does it right next to him. 

The girl ignores them to continue her train of thought. 

“If I know  _ anything  _ about the universe...” Ruse taps at her chin. “This means that something has gone  _ really  _ wrong somewhere else...”

* * *

Beast’s Castle is a dark place and difficult to navigate. In more than one way. 

Riku manages his self-appointed task despite that. There’s supposedly an Organization member around here all the time, from what His Majesty could tell. 

Though Mickey had never  _ seen  _ this Organization member. Not in person. 

That’s what Riku is here for, after all. 

Riku breathes in. The stink of Heartless...is nearly overwhelming. If there are any Nobodies here, their scent must be much more subtle in comparison. 

Not that’s very hard to accomplish, in a Heartless nest. 

To sharpen his senses...he reaches deep into his pocket, pulling out a blindfold. Wraps around his eyes tightly, the black fabric not letting any of the light (no matter how dim) in. 

Covering his eyes allows for greater focus of his other senses, Riku’s found. He’s not Ruse, after all, who seems to be able to see in the dark and hasn’t yet noticed it. It’s weird, but he thinks that’ll be a couple more months before she figures it out (Naminé thinks it’ll only be one) and Riku’s definitely not going to enlighten the Replica before then. 

Breathes. Focusing and reaching for Darkness within...always a risk. But Ansem’s voice, a whisper that’s been gradually growing louder over time...Riku doesn’t need to be afraid. Not when he knows that there are others he can trust to take him down should he fall. (Again.)

Mickey, Naminé, Ruse...Riku’s not alone, while he fights for Sora. 

And it’s...good. Better than he could hoped for, than he deserves. 

Breathes. Draws in more air. Is there a Nobody here?

Careful, careful, want to spy without being caught...

“Who are you?” the blowing a breeze, one threatening to become a wilder wind. 

Riku’s eyes pop open, under his blindfold. 

The air  _ stinks  _ of  _ flowers and honey _ now. Too late. 

“An imposter?” the Nobody muses. Movement. They’re getting closer. “Yes, but why? Are you...a  _ spy?”  _ Riku grits his teeth, as he feels the Darkness rise. Just as it crests and breaks, he  _ moves.  _

“How dare you wear that coat!”

Stars. A shiver of movement and Riku ducks just in time to avoid a lance flinging itself over his head. Or rather, where his head  _ had  _ been. 

He leaps, just in time, over another lance. 

Darkness surges through his veins, speeding him up. Faster and faster, to avoid the onslaught he cannot see. Coming with a roar of pleased laughter heard by Riku alone. 

_ Now, you call upon the Darkness. As I knew you would. _

Yes, but not you. Never you. 

_ So you claim.  _

“Enough!” Something feathery lashes out, catches Riku by the heel. He stumbles, nearly falling over. 

Darkness flares. Can’t let him win!

Whether that “him” is the Nobody or the Heartless inside...well, does it matter?

But it’s not enough. Not without calling on  _ him.  _

_ Fool.  _

The feathery thing catches his ankle. Stalling Riku just enough for more tendrils to wrap around Riku’s middle. Lifting him off the ground. Imprisoning him. 

Riku feels his blindfold slip. Enough to catch a glimpse of his new captor. A man with dark hair braided in a way he hasn’t seen before.

A Nobody with clearish feather-covered tendrils, coming out of his shoulders, around his neck. All wrapped around Riku’s middle. 

“Surrender, imposter,” he demands, holding a lance up to Riku’s throat. “Show me your face.”

There has to be another tool Riku can use to get away! A weapon will just have the Nobody kill him right out. 

Riku grasps for the first thing he can reach for, from his “pocket.”

The last thing he put in.

It’s...Riku blinks at it. His opponent blinks at it. 

“A cantaloupe?”

_ Unbelievable.  _

Oh no. When did  _ he  _ put that in there?

The Nobody laughs, the sound cruel and cutting. “ _ That’s  _ the best you can do?” The lance slices through the air. “Enough games.”

Fine.  _ Fine.  _ Riku’s got a cantaloupe? Then he’ll  _ do something with it.  _

Throws it. As hard as he can, no need to worry about hurting an  _ enemy.  _

Right in the Nobody’s face. 

The cantaloupe, having been through so much pressure already without exploding, decides right then and there to give up the ghost. 

Orange pulp, seeds and flesh, go  _ everywhere.  _ The Nobody flinches from the unexpected fruit bomb and his invisible tendrils draw back. Loosen. 

It’s just enough. 

Riku slips free and there’s a Dark Corridor waiting right underneath him when he does. Gone, back to Twilight Town in its constant light. Relatively safer. 

Safe for now. But later?

Looks like the Organization will know now, that their enemies are watching them. And willing to use fruit to assault them. 

“Great.”

* * *

The fights have all been against Heartless so far. 

Easy enough, even if Xion does have to use a shield instead of her Keyblade. And Blizzards, which have been getting more difficult for her to cast lately. Compared to her Firas, that is. 

At this rate, she’ll have plenty of time to talk to Mosh afterwards, by the Safe Point. And Ruse too, if she’s back by then.

The red bandana is sticky, around her head. Sticky and hot. Like the rest of her. Yuck.

She swats her hand at her forehead. The gloves don’t help. They never do. 

The others in the Organization  _ never  _ have this problem. This stickiness Axel called “sweat” after looking at her strangely. 

(Another thing that’s different, another step closer to a monster...she needs answers.)

Another round, another victory. Xion lowers her borrowed shield, this shield of blue and white that’s so familiar. Yet she doesn’t know why.

(Why it’s comforting, almost.)

Lowers it and awaits the announcement of the next bout.

“Let the semi-finals begin!”

It’s a  _ who _ , not a  _ what _ , that enters the arena next. A who that Xion knows too well. She can’t help but stare. 

Roxas, of course, knows her. 

“Xion! You’re here!”

“And we’re supposed to fight,” she finishes for him. 

Oh. They’re supposed to fight. Her hands grip the edge of Ruse’s shield tightly. 

Her blood runs cold, at the thought. Ice in her veins when she’s run hot for so very long. 

Quick. Ask a question. Figure out why he’s here. What to do. 

“How are you here?”

Roxas tilts his head back, thinking. “The goat-man, Phil,  _ really  _ wanted someone to fill in. Yelling about how Hades was pulling a “fast one” since Hercules was gone...why are  _ you  _ here, Xion?”

Xion half shrugs. “I might be the fast one that Phil’s worrying about. I think.”

“Oh.” Roxas just takes that in and moves on. It’s the one of the things Xion likes about him. Even if it’s a little frustrating sometimes. 

“Anyone else here?” She asks. 

“Met Demyx outside.” Roxas scowls. “He’s as lazy as ever.”

Oh,  _ that’s  _ where he went instead of where he and Braska usually are. Has Xion told her friends about that yet? No, she hasn’t. Because that would be mentioning Ruse too. 

(Why doesn’t she want to talk about Ruse? ...She doesn’t know.)

“What should we do then?” Because she’s not “Mors” and Roxas isn’t “Hercules.” This isn’t really their fight, to fight until someone gets hurt and bows out. 

Roxas, as always, seems to understand the real question underneath. 

“We can fake-fight,” Roxas suggests.

Xion agrees. “That sounds like fun.” And no way for either of them to lose, if they’re just doing it for fun. Whoever wins will take care of the Heartless, and whoever doesn’t has no need to worry about it. 

What a good idea!

Fake-fighting is far better than fighting for real. She can do this. She  _ can.  _

She steadies herself, reaching out her hand to cast a spell. Across from her, Roxas readies himself as well, both hands on his Keyblade’s hilt.

The crowd gets louder at the sight. “Fight! Fight! Fight!” They chant. Loud and crazy, the shared energy buoys Xion up. 

“Let the battle begin!” some far off announcer booms. 

Everything is far off, with Roxas right in front of her, right in her face. Fierce. The fight starts simple, but then picks up once they find their rhythm. Same movements, on different people. Mirroring each other. 

Fighting each other.

(“That the best you can do?” Yellow spiky hair, an oversized sword. Mocking.)

Her Keyblade’s out, borrowed shield gone. When did that happen?

(“Gotta keep going...” A red cloak swirls.)

She’s supposed to miss. He’s been missing, she’s supposed to. But-!

(A name.  _ Cloud. _ )

Instead of missing, Xion-

She  _ actually  _ hits him. Not that hard. But something’s wrong, the way Roxas staggers back, away from her-

Roxas falls.

There’s a scream.

It takes far too long for Xion to realize:  _ she’s  _ the one screaming. 

The crowd is probably screaming too, but she can’t hear it over the rush of blood in her ears. As she rushes towards Roxas, on the ground. 

Not moving, eyes closed. Like he’s...he’s...

Is that black blood on the ground? On the Keyblade she’s just thrown aside?

Roxas is so very still in her arms. Too still.

Her “heart” trembles. Feels like it’s breaking apart in her chest. 

The wail rips itself free out of Xion’s throat, as she throws her head back.

What has she  _ done? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sooo incredibly close to finishing the next chapter, so here's a hint to what may lie ahead... Also, we've hit the stage where all the end of Arc 1 hints will start kicking in! The end draws near.
> 
> Day 149- Unlike Minds


	30. Unlike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Hero pokes a sleeping dragon, The Gullwings find some treasure, Axel tries his Best, and Riku's first meeting goes very different.
> 
> (How does one piss off Xemnas, exactly?)

“...and then Riku threw the freakin’ _cantaloupe_ at him.”

“Oh, did he?”

“Yep!” I nod at the old wizard respectfully. “Thanks for the melon, by the way.”

Merlin takes a sip from his teacup. “Of course.”

I peer into my own cup. Green, with yellow music note-shaped specks floating around. Fantastically delicious, as always. Sweet sweet, like sugared strawberries. “Oh, what’s this blend?”

“Dulcet, it’s quite difficult, you know, to get the Figments from the Realm of Sleep.” A little spoon taps itself against the side of Merlin’s cup. “Oh, no more sugar, my dear.”

The spoon flips away. Its movement...looks like it’s sulking. 

Everything is so ridiculous here. Whimsical, I think the right word is, with all of the household objects moving around, the books fluttering every so often in the corner. 

While having a tea party with a wizard who _defines_ the word wizard. 

Yeah, whimsical’s right. 

I love it. 

Maybe reminding myself of that will be enough to get my thoughts away from Xion. About how she disappeared after the fights. How I haven’t seen her again. 

Oh no, too late. I’m thinking about her. 

The wardrobe rattles _really_ loudly. Merlin picks up the spoon and points at said wardrobe with it. 

“Check that out, will you?”

I shrug. “Sure.” Maybe I’ll end up in another magical clothes fight, that might make a decent distraction. 

Rise from my seat, head on over. The wardrobe shakes until my bare hand rests on it. Then the doors dramatically open (narrowly missing my nose as I leap back) and a bundle of cloth falls out. 

“Ookay?”

I unfold the cloth bundle, hold it up. A black hoodie with pink lettering on the front. I squint at it. I...eat...monsters? Huh. That sounds actually pretty cool. 

“Hey, can I have this?”

“Excellent taste. Have it!”

“Great!” I grin. “Is it magical at all?”

A valid question to ask, especially with the way the wardrobe keeps trying to inch away from me. 

Merlin thinks it through, stroking his beard, while his teapot attempts to beat up a teacup in the background. “Not today. Maybe tomorrow. Definitely not _yesterday.”_

Alrighty. Possibly magic jacket? Score!

Tea time’s over, can’t stay over...another time then. 

I wave at Merlin as I go through the window, pushing the shutters aside. He waves back, looking quite pleased. “See you later!”

_Must you go through the window every time._

“What’s your point?”

_Never mind._

I’m not _nearly_ so hungry anymore, as I used to be. Guess a change in diet really makes a difference!

But for old time’s sake...I dig out from my pockets, a shiny wrapped up granola bar. Unwrap it and stick the end in my mouth. 

Ah...yum. 

_I suppose this is better than other things you’ve been eating._

“A healthy diet is relative!” My words come out somewhat muffled, since I’m still chowing down. 

A heavy sigh. _Eat with your mouth closed._

I make my chewing noises louder. Just because. Not any other reason. 

Another sigh, but Vexen (wisely) chooses to say nothing this time. 

I pace along the cobbled streets. It’s...nice, not wearing my Dark Suit outside of Castle Oblivion. Been a while since I did that. 

I should hang out with Naminé and Riku in Twilight Town again. That would be fun. 

But after I’ve saved Roxas and Xion. 

“Oh, we could have a celebration party!”

_For what?_

I put my hands behind my head. Smiling. “Well, I’ve survived much longer than I should have...oh, it can be a “Ha-ha I lived” kind of party!”

_...It’s good that you’re alive._

I snort. “Of course it is! How would your experiment go, if I were dead?”

 _Not the point._ Ooh, someone sounds testy. 

“Whatever.” I shrug my new hoodie on. Feels...soft. Nice.Squishy against my hands, covering my hands, since it’s kinda oversized. 

Perfect. Just to my tastes.

“Maybe Merlin should go into fashion.” Then I think my statement over, the man in blue robes...and sometimes Hawaiian shirts. In odd colors. “Maybe not.”

Better than those stupid black coats the Organization wears. Great, now I’m back to think about them. 

“Xion better be okay,” I grumble, kicking at the road. 

_You’re sure to see her again._

“That would be more believable if she and Demyx haven’t been around the last few times.” Just Braska and Auron, which has been nice in a different way. 

Naminé’s been busy, like Riku, with Sora. We haven’t been able to talk as much as we used to as a result. Which leaves the Underworld. With no Demyx, no Xion. 

Demyx, I’m not too worried about. He’s an _adult,_ he can take care of himself. 

Just...Xion’s in trouble. I can _feel_ it. 

_No, you can’t._

Shut up. “Can’t tell me what I can and can’t feel,” I mumble. Ergh, since I’m here...maybe I should try the Moogle Clan? Or ooh, the Cavern of Remembrance! I’m definitely better than the last time I ran through there. 

_No._

Ah, party pooper. 

“Heya!” A voice chirps at me from above. 

No need to look for trouble now, look like it’s already here. 

The Gullwings! We haven’t really interacted much, other than me occasionally grabbing them spellbooks in exchange for candy.

I’m not sure where they’re getting the candy from, but it’s pretty good. Not gonna ask. 

“Heya! How’s it going? Find any new treasure?”

Paine shakes her head. “Nothing.”

“Well...” Yuna looks contemplative. “There is the castle, now that _she’s_ gone.”

“But no one can get inside.” Rikku droops. “What a pain!”

The castle, aye? The castle with the top secret stuff inside that only the former Apprentices can get into. 

_Ruse. You can’t be thinking about going in._

“Who said anything about going in?” I do have the _suspected_ passwords in my brain somewhere. I could just hand them over. If they don’t work, whatever. If they do...

“What about some passwords? For getting in?”

Paine squints me. “What for?”

I tap my chin. “For some honey candies, of course!” And for possibly screwing over the Organization, can’t forget that. 

_You shouldn’t do this!_ Vexen insists fervently. _You’ll draw the Superior’s attention and-!_

“Well, I’m already a threat, aren’t I? Just by existing?” A dark smile pulls at my lips. “Might as well go all the way.”

Make them _hurt_ , for the way Xion curls up sometimes. For what I _know,_ from another time, another place, what they’ve said to her, how they treat her. 

Do I have paper? ...Yes, I have paper. A pen? Yep, that too. When did I pick those up? Whatever, doesn’t matter. Scribble down the password, Vexen seething in the back of my head. Like a very grumpy thundercloud. 

“Are you done talking to yourself now?” Rikku. Of course. The trio look very worried, with varying degrees of wariness or concern mixed in. 

I shrug. “Sorry. Just..ghosts, you know?”

“Ah!” Yuna makes a face of comprehension. All three fairies nod. “Of course.”

...I don’t actually want to know what they got out of my nonsense. 

I don’t. Really. 

(Maybe a little.)

“So, here are the codes...not sure what order, but this should help you get in.” I pass my paper to Paine. With the names of the old apprentices of Ansem the Wise on it. Should be the right password, especially with how Vexen reacted. 

The fairies look it over before nodding at me. Rikku veers over my hands to drop some wrapped up candy. 

“Thanks!” Yuna chirps. 

They all bow, midair, before fluttering off. Presumably to break into the old castle. 

“Screw ‘em up for me,” I whisper. 

(It’s what they deserve. Do it for Xion. For _Naminé_.)

(The candies do taste pretty sweet too. Perfect.)

* * *

The Human Castle is a big place. 

If there’s anything that could possibly destroy what lies at its roots, it would be somewhere inside. Thanks to the strange not-human kid...they now have a way inside. Paine pokes at the weird electronics and screens, searching for somewhere to put their newly acquired key. 

Sorry, _code._

“So this looks like a place to put in that code we were shown...” Paine muses, clicking at the keys. Carefully putting in the words (names?) in the correct order. Tosses the paper to the side, to land...who knows where. It’s a Human place, not a Fey. Who cares?

A clicking sound and then...stairs? Sliding out, so many of them. 

“Whoa, that would be _awful_ to walk down.” Rikku peers down at the many, many steps.

“That’s what wings are for,” Paine says. 

Yuna hums. “But humans don’t have wings...how unlucky.”

Probably a result of a curse, who knows with humans?

To get to the bottom only takes a minute or two, tops. Easy enough with the power of flight on your side. 

But it’s... _Dark._ At the bottom. 

Yuna stops, Paine pausing beside her.

Rikku, of course, flies ahead. 

Paine sighs. “Careful,” she calls out, with the tone of someone who’s always ignored. 

Loud banging noises and then...

“There’s armor down here!” Rikku’s voice calls back, from somewhere in the Dark. 

Yuna perks up, wings fluttering. “Really?”

“And a sword!”

“Didn’t expect treasure down _here,”_ Paine murmurs, flying ahead to check it out. Almost disappearing into the darkness like Rikku herself. 

Yuna snaps her fingers, calling on just a _brush_ of wind magic to propel her forwards. Just enough to catch up to her friends. 

To the door at the end of this hall of...Yuna shivers. _Terrible_ things happened here, in those cells on both sides, her magic whispers to her. A whisper as vibrant as the wind that carries her. 

Truly awful things. _Dark_ things. 

Rikku’s already cracked the forbidding door open, making the hall much lighter than before. A skill long honed by proper Gullwing Treasure Hunting!

Inside...

Yuna pauses, midair. 

There’s armor. And a sword. Empty, broken, left there in the middle of a spiraling chain pattern. Abandoned. 

“Hm, Yuna?” Paine prompts.

Oh yes, time for her magic. Her special talent that _only_ Yuna has. (Her mother always says it comes from her father, but how would she know? She’s never met him.)

Yuna flutters down and reaches out to touch the cold metal. 

Yuna’s fingers rest against the dark blue. Feeling for its past. 

The memories come in busy flurries. 

(“It’s the power of true love that defeated you.” Dragonfire, _green_ dragonfire.)

(“My name is Master Aqua. Now return my friends’ hearts, or pay the price!”)

The Fey’s hand draws back with a gasp. So bright, like looking into the sun!

“What is it?” Rikku inquires, wings fluttering into a blur. 

“Yeah, who does the armor belong to?” Paine adds.

Yuna looks up, eyes shining. “Someone who _fought the Dark Name-Stealer!”_

“Oh!” Rikku shoots straight up. “Really? Where is she now?”

Paine puts a hand under her chin. “Probably dead, if she left her armor here.”

Yuna tugs at her braid. “...I don’t think so.” The words come out slowly. “The connection is strong enough...she might be _alive.”_

Rikku flicks her wings, her face scrunched up in thought.

Paine shakes her head. “That’s kind of crazy...what are the odds of finding a warrior that could get the Name back and free our people?”

“Well, pretty good, since it just happened,” Rikku points out. 

“True.”

“Well, kind of happened,” Yuna clarifies, “I mean, we have her armor but not the rest of her.”

“But we can _use_ her armor to get the rest of her...” Paine taps her fingers against her arm. Rata-tat-tat. “That’s the other half of it, isn’t it.”

Yuna nods. “Yes. But first, we should get the armor out of here.”

She shivers. Out of this cursed place, where the screams still echo. 

The Gullwings examine the armor more carefully, this time with a treasure-hunter’s eye. 

“This is some _really_ big treasure.” Rikku pouts. “I don’t wanna go bigger, to pick it up.”

From those memories, there might be a way...Yuna hovers next to the shoulder plate. She presses her hand against the armor again, giving a certain location a heavy tap. A flash of light and the armor is gone, shrunken down to just a shoulder plate.

“Whoa!”

“Armor that can change sizes like we can...” Paine nods. “Not bad.”

Rikku tugs at her own ponytail. “What about the sword?”

Yuna shakes her head. “We shouldn’t touch that.” On that, the memories seemed _very_ clear indeed, that the Gullwings wouldn’t be able to pick up the sword. 

The sword was _special_ somehow, shaped like a key. 

All the old stories agreed: you didn’t touch key-swords. Not unless you wanted something _really_ terrible to happen to you, like disappearing and never being seen again. 

“Oh, leaving treasure behind?” Rikku folds her arms over her chest dramatically. “No way!”

“Awful,” Paine agrees. 

“But no choice,” Yuna reminds them. She lifts up the armor shoulder plating, hefting it over her shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”

The white sterileness of the place...so much like what had taken over where the Fey slept. Surely from the same creators, whatever terrible people they may be. 

Yuna hopes that whoever they are, they’re dead.

She doesn’t think they’re that lucky. 

* * *

Roxas won’t wake up, Xion’s freaking out, and there’s an imposter now?

What the _hell_ is going on?

...Axel seems to know less and less about what’s going on with each passing day. And he doesn’t like it. 

First things first, get some answers. Easier said than done. 

She’s at their usual spot. Waiting for him to arrive. Him alone, since Roxas is...hurt. 

Xion perches on the edge of the clocktower like she’s about to fly off into the purple clouds. Away from him. 

Axel settles down on a spot right next to her. He doesn’t move, even as she inches away. 

He leans back, eyes down to the reddish sunset. Clearly not looking in Xion’s direction. At the strange red cloth she’s rubbing against her hands. 

“What happened?”

A shuffling sound of leather against the cement. 

“Demyx already gave the report, didn’t he? In your meeting.”

“I don’t want to hear what _Demyx_ says about what happened. I want to hear it from _you,”_ Axel says patiently. 

Xion is quiet. She usually is, but this is a different kind of quiet from that. An upset quiet. At least, that’s what it would be if anyone had actual emotions around here. 

His bones ache. A lot of his body has been aching, lately. He coughs. Once, twice. 

“Xion?”

“I hurt Roxas,” she states. Her coat rustles, as she tries hiding in her hood. “That’s the truth.”

“But not all of it.” That, Axel’s confident of. Xion would never hurt Roxas on purpose, they’re too close for that. So how did the accident occur?

A Limit Break misfire seems likely, since those are pretty difficult to control. Especially for Nobodies that haven’t even existed a year yet. 

“C’mon, tell me.”

Xion says nothing. 

A huff of breath escapes him. “Fine. Don’t say anything. But I’m listening, if you do.”

Axel rolls his shoulders and coughs. The cough is _really_ quiet, a mouse’s squeak kind of quiet. Still loud enough for Nobody ears to catch. For Xion to hear. 

Xion stands up on the ledge. Drops the red cloth, letting it fall slowly through the air. Towards the town far behind. 

“I have to go on a mission.”

“Wait-!” Axel reaches out. Too late. Xion’s gone with a whirl of a Corridor. 

Another mission? It seems she’s been getting more and more of them lately, many fairly difficult. What exactly is Saïx up to?

He heaves out a long breath. HIs chest burns from the force of it. The red cloth blows past, carried away to who knows where by the wind. 

What can he do?

He...doesn’t know. Only that...

Most Nobodies aren’t so complicated, like he told Roxas. It’s just his luck that Xion is one of those that _is._ Man, what a pain. 

“What am I going to do _now?”_

Wait for her to finish her mission, apparently. By Roxas’ side, since Axel’s finished all of his and doesn’t have anything else to do. 

(He hasn’t been able to sleep much, lately.)

(Not like he used to.)

“Are you going to wake up soon? Or leave me in suspense?” Axel addresses the body on the bed. 

A surprise, when that same body starts moving. 

Roxas shifts, eyes fluttering. 

Axel leans forward in anticipation. “Roxas?”

“Axel,” the words hiss out. The sign of awareness Axel’s been waiting for.

Whew. He’s alive, and awake. Like a pressure suddenly lessened on Axel’s shoulders. 

“Where’s...Xion?” Roxas manages.

Axel leans back against the wall. “On a mission. She’ll be back soon.”

She’d better.

What would they do without her?

* * *

“Explain to me again why you wanted me to come with you, Riku.” I look over the castle surrounding us. Beast’s Castle, Riku calls it. From Days and Kingdom Hearts II, I know. It’s very...blue. And dark. And very less recognizable without its signature theme playing over and over again in the background. 

There’s life here, I’ve been assured, but I haven’t seen any. “Sooo? Why?” I prompt. 

“I need another set of eyes, in case that Nobody comes back.”

I feel my eyes get bigger. “Oh? You ran into an Organization member you couldn’t handle?”

“I could handle it, but we’re just doing scouting right now,” Riku testily corrects me. 

I put my hands up. “Alright, alright...where did you see ‘em?”

“Around here somewhere.” Well, that’s pretty vague. 

“You sure you can’t be more exact?”

“Nobodies move around a lot. He might not be in the same spot I encountered him.”

True. Especially if this Nobody is who I _think_ it is...Xaldin always hangs out in Beast’s Castle, doesn’t he?

Careful, careful. Don’t want to get impaled. There’s no Leap mechanic for me to take advantage of should I run into him after all...

“When should we meet up, then?”

Riku considers. I can particularly see the thoughts ticking away in that brain of his. “I’ll find you,” he decides. 

“Alright!” I agree. Probably be the best way, with my crappy directional sense and the weird smelling thing Riku’s got going on. 

Huh, which reminds me...what do I smell like to Riku?

I’ll ask him later. “See you then.”

Riku gives me a quick acknowledgement in the form of a nod and disappears. In shadowy darkness, using the Corridor the way it was _meant_ to be used. 

Now he’s gone...

Stretch my hands behind my head, then start running my fingers along my scars. “Hm, if I were a Xaldin, where would I hide?”

Then I should probably pick the opposite direction and go there, since I don’t want to die. Excellent plan. 

Wait, if I’m here to watch Riku’s back, why did we split up? Oops. 

“We really didn’t think this through, did we?”

_Just avoid Xaldin’s...obsession zone, and you should be fine._

“Whatcha mean by that?” Dig my fingers in deeper. 

A moment of silence, before Vexen speaks again. _Nobodies get...possessive. Stay away from the Somebodies he’s tormenting._

“Well, that was my plan anyway. Good to know it’s a good one.”

_It would be better not to be here at all._

I hum, carefully treading through the shadows. Squishing the Shadows there quickly, with Frozen Pride. Don’t want to attract anything bigger...

The moonlight is bright overhead, in this courtyard. Maybe I should stay out here. 

Humming, looking up at the moon. 

_Someone’s coming._

What? Turn and there’s...a figure in a black coat. Their hood is up but despite that, I _know_ who it is. 

From the Keyblade held in a shaking hand and...something else. A tug, inside.

“Xion?”

A flinch. “Ruse? What are you doing here?”

“Um.” Hm, I don’t really have a good answer for this, considering she’s only ever seen me in the Underworld. “Looking for Xaldin?”

“ _You’re_ the imposter?” She sounds so...broken-hearted. 

I look away. It would be easy to lie here, but the truth... “No. But I work with him,” I admit. 

A wild sound, of...I don’t know. Only that it’s broken, fierce, as Xion comes at me with Keyblade raised. 

I catch it easily with Frozen Pride. The impact reverberates through my bones. 

I can see her blue eyes now. _Her_ eyes, not Ema’s. But I’m not holding Arrogant Abstract. How did that happen? When?

Doesn’t matter. 

They’re wide, almost tearful. 

“Xion...I don’t want to fight. _Please,”_ I implore. 

A half-choked sob. The Keyblade falls, laying there innocently in the moonlight. “I- don’t- I don’t _want to fight either._ ”

I put my hand out. Let my shield vanish. 

Vexen, surprisingly, doesn’t yell at me for the action. Instead, he waits. Full of something so unbearably...weightly, for me to act. 

“Then we won’t,” I say confidently. “Xion...what do you want?”

I try to make the words as soft as I can. They still hit Xion pretty hard, enough that she staggers. Falls to her knees, hands digging into the dirt by her Keyblade. 

A Keyblade, that in another time Riku called a “fake.”

“What I want...I want...”

She lifts her head. Towards me. Her eyes are as bright as stars. 

“What am I?” the girl whispers brokenly, from where she’s fallen to the earth. 

Let out a breath. 

_The truth will hurt her._

But not knowing will hurt her more. Has already done that. 

“You’re a Replica. Like me.”

Keep going, don’t hold back. 

“You’re meant to be a copy of Sora, Roxas’ Somebody.”

Xion is so very still. Except for that single movement of her slumping even closer to the ground.

“If I’m copying Sora...does that mean that I’m a boy?” Xion asks, voice barely above a whisper. I can hear an echo of a deeper question, under that: _am I Sora? Is Xion a lie?_

I squat down next to her, considering my next words. I know what I want to say, what I want to focus on, of course, but I want to do this right. Say this right. 

Actually offer assurance for once in my life. 

“Let’s see...do you feel like a boy? Want to be a boy?” 

Xion shakes her head, mute. 

“So, you’re not, then.” I scoot a little closer. “Look, I’m a copy of Riku. And he’s a boy, isn’t he?”

Xion thinks it through. “...Yes.”

“And I’m not. You don’t have to be the person you copy. You can just be...Xion.” I smile, offer my hands. “Like how I’m just Ruse.”

 _Always been better than the original,_ Vexen whispers. If I didn’t know better, I would say he almost sounds... _fond._

“I want...to help Roxas and Axel.” A half-broken sob, her body shaking and shaking. “I’m hurting them and I don’t know what to do!”

“I’ll help.” I have to, I have to. Xion needs it. 

Her hands aren’t smaller than mine. In fact, they might even be a little bigger. Yet somehow, they seem tiny, curled up in my grip. Like how Xion seems so small and so young, at this very moment. 

Her entire body shakes. I’m shaking too, an echo. A reflection that should have died months ago. 

Yet.

I’m here. Here against all odds. 

I am nineteen years old, fourteen years old, not even a year, as I lean forward to touch my forehead against hers. We lean on each other, balancing our weight, our burdens. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay.”

I say the words, hoping against the weight of fate, that I’m not lying. 

“Please, let it be okay.”

* * *

When Riku finds Ruse, to meet up like they said they would, she’s wrapped herself around a short cloaked figure. An Organization member, judging by the coat. Crying her eyes out.

Of course. 

“Ruse,” he calls out. Quietly, so not to draw any Heartless. His Darkness (and Ruse’s own Darkness) should be enough to hide them from any attention, but you never really know with Heartless. 

His time with Maleficent and Ansem taught him that much. 

Neither one moves. Neither one seems to notice him. 

Riku heaves out a sigh, shoulders slumping. 

He walks closer, until he’s right in arm’s reach. 

Still no reaction. Still crying. 

Riku kneels and...wraps his arms around the both of them. Just barely.

Ruse instantly latches onto him, pulling him deeper into the hug. “Riiikkuuu!” she wails. 

“Ruse, let go-!” It’s like fighting an octopus, getting free!

But the Organization member pulls out and Ruse lets go right away. 

“Oh,” the Organization member says wetly, “You’re the imposter I’m supposed to fight.”

Riku’s eyes squint. “What?”

Another sniffle. 

Ruse waves a hand. “Hey, this is Xion. She’s with us now.”

A girl, part of the Organization, sent against someone who had already defeated several Nobodies of the Organization... “Is this like with Naminé?”

Ruse looks surprised. “Yeah, kinda.”

Riku turns, offering a gloved hand to Xion. “Hello.”

He can’t see Xion’s eyes but he’s pretty sure that she’s surprised too, by the way her hood twitches in his direction. 

Riku leaves the hand there. Waiting. While Ruse moans dramatically off to the side, pushing herself up onto her feet. More dramatic than usual. 

It’s just like Sora, whenever he thought someone was sad. 

In the end, Xion does accept his hand. Slow, hesitant, but she does. Riku pulls her up onto her feet. “Let’s get out of here, before anyone else shows up.”

They go to Twilight Town. Riku suggests it, ignoring how Xion twitches violently in the background. Yes, it’s an Organization hub. But it’s also where he gets the pastries that Naminé and Ruse like (and DiZ does too, but he’ll never admit it). 

Besides, after sending Xion after him, they’ll never expect prey and hunter to be enjoying a nice snack at the bakery. 

So Twilight Town it is. 

Ruse lets her Dark Suit vanish, revealing that she’s got a new hoodie on underneath. She stretches out her hands behind her head. “Let’s grab some food! Any ideas, Riku?”

“The bakery,” Riku says immediately. 

Ruse blinks. “The bakery? Oh, yeah, you’ve been still going there for treats...that’s a great idea!” She gestures to the streets ahead. “Lead the way!”

They get there quickly enough, Riku leading the way. Xion’s still shaking, but what to do about it? He’s not Sora, that’s for sure. Thankfully Ruse appears to have taken the lead on this. 

To the door, inside.

Riku sits at the small table. It’s usually reserved for Miss Olive’s daughter Olette and her friends, but they aren’t here right now. Which means it’s free game. 

Miss Olive doesn’t look busy with any orders at the counter. Which is good. They won’t be a hassle then. 

“Miss Olive?” Riku clears his throat, while gesturing to Ruse and Xion to sit as well. They both do but Riku can only see Ruse’s eyes grow curious. 

The woman answers him at once. 

“Ah, you brought your twin this time.” Green eyes sharpen as they go over Xion. A clear question. One he won’t answer. 

Riku nods. He doesn’t really have anything to say in response to that. But he does have one question...

“Miss Olive, could we get some hot chocolate?” A treat that the baker didn’t really offer to anyone, except for those who knew to ask. Such as Riku himself. 

The bakery owner smiles. “Of course. Wait right here!” She bustles off to her kitchen.

Riku turns back to Ruse and Xion to find Ruse frowning at him. He frowns back. “What?”

“You’re _taller_ than me,” Ruse says, like it’s a _betrayal._ “When did _that_ happen?”

Oh, so this isn’t anything serious. 

“It’s called growing up, maybe you’ve heard of it?” Riku offers, fighting back a smirk. 

Ruse right out _pouts._ “That’s no fair, I’m still the same size as ever!”

“Maybe if you didn’t eat _rocks-_ ”

“Is that a Replica thing? Not growing?” Xion whispers, speaking for the first time since they left the castle. She shrinks back as they both turn to look at her. 

Ruse tilts her head, the childish frown on her face becoming something more thoughtful. “I don’t know. Maybe? There should be notes we can go through back at Castle Oblivion...”

Another Replica? Hm. Maybe he should ask Ruse later about this, or DiZ...

Xion mumbles something. It’s hard to hear her, with the way her hood covers her face. 

At least Ruse appears to be having the same problem. “Sorry, what?”

“Stiltzkin said I need to ask another Moogle about Charity.”

“Charity?” Ruse pushes against the back of her chair, scratching at her facial scars. “Ah, yeah, I heard about that too. Seems important. How ‘bout we go do that together?”

“Later,” Riku states firmly, because if he doesn’t, Ruse will run off right now to do it. Just as bad as Sora and Kairi, when they got their heads set on something. 

Ruse slumps. “Alright.” 

Then perks up, as Miss Olive puts three mugs of steaming hot chocolate on the table. And a plate of sticky buns.

Miss Olive winks, before sashaying off. “Your favorite.”

Ruse mouths _your favorite,_ in pure disbelief. 

Xion pulls a mug closer to herself, hood twitching back and forth between the two of them. 

Riku sniffs. “Shut up.” He reaches out to grab one of the rolls.

“I didn’t say anything,” Ruse protests, putting her hands up in mock innocence. 

“Sure you didn’t.”

“You know what, Riku,” there’s a smile on Ruse’s face, over her steam mug of hot chocolate. Teasing. “You’re a brat.” 

Xion says nothing, but appears to be watching the proceedings with interest. Her gloved hands wrap tight around her drink. 

Maybe a threat, but probably not. Ruse does have good judgement. Sometimes. 

Riku laughs, hiding a little behind his own mug. “What makes you a judge of that?”

Ruse sticks out her tongue. “Excuse you, I am an _excellent_ judge of character!”

“Like how you think sopapillas are better than cupcakes?”

“That’s because they are!”

(His heart warms. If only Sora were awake...)

(Then this would be perfect.)

(Anything to drive back the Darkness in his heart.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm, I did say I was pretty close to finishing this chapter, didn't I? There is probably an entire side story I could write about Riku and the residents of Twilight Town, and how they all think he ran from a cult and are feeding him because of that.  
> Can't wait for the next chapters!!! *hums*


	31. Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Guide surfaces from the background briefly, Namine crushes, and the story of Charity is told. Among other things. 
> 
> ...Did you really think the Organization wouldn't reclaim its possessions?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Large Scale Info Dump (the Author has done their best!), Blood, Torture, and Cliffhanger.  
> This has been planned and set up for months, just you wait.

The Guide of Departure examines the recently recovered memories. They play their scenes if attention is paid to them more than a second or two, so the Guide merely skims them. “These are all of them, is that correct?”

Modification Naminé nods, patting her Linking Program on her lap. “Yes. Those are the last ones that Sora needs.”

“Then the work is nearly complete. Apprentice Sora will wake soon.” Unlike the blond boy in the chair in the center of the room, still covered by a fuzzy green blanket. 

The bunny-like Linking Program yawns, as it curls up on its Master.

Naminé puts one hand behind her back, as she leans forward. Examining the clusters carefully. “But if I pull here...”

Clever to catch that.

“The Replica Xion will be forgotten by those not properly prepared,” The Guide finishes for her. “But only if you pull too fast and too hard. Otherwise, the process will go smoothly and the Replica Xion will become a Unit independent of Apprentice Sora.”

Unlike the other, the Nobody. 

_ Roxas.  _

The Guide nearly hisses between their teeth, a very human gesture. They know they have to address the subject eventually, but they will let Modification Naminé dictate the path of her data inquiry. 

(It is possible they are a coward, despite all the data protesting such a conclusion.)

“How is the digitization process going?” 

Ah, the Journal. Modification Naminé had brought up the possibility that the memories could be lost again (or rather, User DiZ did through her, albeit unknowingly). There had to be a way to properly store them to avoid future dangers. 

Thus the Guide had agreed to the digitization of the record carried through their facilities, otherwise known as “Jiminy's Journal.”

The Guide inclines their head. “Fairly well. The process is 83% completed.”

Modification Naminé bites her lip. “How much longer?”

Now, they could give the numbers down to the exact millisecond. Experience through dealing with various Masters had taught them otherwise. 

“It should be complete when Apprentice Sora wakes.”

“Oh, that’s good!” Modification Naminé claps her hands together, very quietly. 

The Linking Program’s ears go up in shared excitement. 

“And what about Roxas?”

Of course. They cannot hope to avoid  _ this  _ subject. Only a fool would think otherwise. The Guide turns on their heel. “What of it?”

Modification Naminé fidgets and her Linking Program rumbles. 

“What about Sora’s Nobody? Roxas? Doesn’t he have memories too?”

The Guide calculates. To be perfectly honest, they do not know if Nobody Roxas holds more of the memories or not. Only that the Nobody looks like Apprentice Ventus. 

Apprentice Ventus must be awakened. The Nobody holds the key.

“Do we have to...” Naminé’s fingers twist in her lap, in her Linking Program’s fur. “Make him rejoin Sora?”

“I will...” The Guide steeples their fingers. “If that is necessary, I will preserve Nobody Roxas’ essence the best I am able.”

Blue eyes go wide at that. “Could you explain that, please?”

“If the body must go to Apprentice Sora-” and Apprentice Ventus, though the Modification did not need to know that, “-I will record Nobody Roxas so he will exist as an individual within my programs.”

“Oh.” Naminé bites her lip, thinking the promise over. “Not as good as Roxas being able to be free, but...” Her smile is shaky, weak. “It’s the best we can hope for, isn’t it?”

The Guide inclines their head, their veils shifting about. “Indeed.”

“Would you...” Naminé hesitates, twisting her fingers even more. “Have a record of me, when I go back to Kairi?”

Was that possible? The Guide runs a program to calculate the odds. Yes, it was possible...but not required, since according to Sora’s memories, Naminé’s Somebody was safe and sound. 

Why would Modification Naminé want to go back?

“I will,” the Guide promises solemnly. “My oath.”

Modification Naminé nods back, resolute. As firm as Master Aqua was, commanding the Oblivion Program to commence, the Guide can’t but recall fondly. 

(They would like the two to meet.)

Modification Naminé disappears. Her Linking Program fades away, more slowly.

Ah. She must have awoken. Who knew that a being without a Heart could eventually develop a Heart, one strong enough to properly Dream?

Another task, to investigate further into Nobodies along with User Darkness In Zero. 

Number one priority, that is currently achievable and in reach: wake Apprentice Ventus. But also...preserve Nobody Roxas if able. For Modification Naminé. 

The digitization process hums as it stops. Again. 

“What is it this time?” The Guide sends a query. 

The report:  _ Their hurting will be mended when you return to end it.  _

How...interesting. When there is enough completed in the queue, they will ponder its possible meaning in the coding with reassigned processors. 

“Record it for later and continue.”

Veils and skirts swirl as the Guide returns to their never ending work.

* * *

For Naminé, it can be lonely sometimes. Ruse and Riku are often gone to other worlds, fulfilling their self-appointed tasks. The Mouse King is gone far more often than the pair. 

There’s DiZ, of course. But he’s usually quiet and rarely speaks. If Naminé asks direct questions, he’ll answer more often than not.

That’s not really...talking, though. Like Ruse does, or Riku. Like friends do. 

Maybe Xion will change that. 

Though it’s been a couple days already, and they haven’t gotten a good chance to talk yet...

“Hello, you’re...Naminé?” Xion looks nervous, as she settles on the ground across from Naminé. “That’s what Riku and Ruse said...”

“Yes. My name is Naminé.”

Naminé scrutinizes Xion’s face carefully. Taking in every detail she can, from this first proper meeting of theirs. 

Xion looks a lot like Kairi, the memories of Naminé’s Somebody that intertwined with the Replica’s own Soul. 

But she is very different, in the way she holds herself, her coloring, her...

She looks like a hero. Like Sora is. 

“You’re very pretty.” Naminé wants to swallow the words as soon as they come out of her mouth, wants to disappear as Xion looks at her.

“What?” Those big blue eyes, so very unlike Ruse’s indigo ones or Riku’s teal ones, blink at her in pure confusion. 

Oh look, her hands are glowing  _ really  _ brightly now. As is the rest of her. “Never mind.”

In the background, DiZ coughs and shakes his head. Drawing Xion’s attention, so those blue eyes go away from Naminé towards him. 

What a relief.

“Hello?” Xion tries.

DiZ looks Xion up and down coldly. “You’re the other replica, I see. Xion.”

Xion looks down, wrapping her hands around each other in her lap. “Yes.”

“Hm.” DiZ says nothing more, returning to his work. 

Naminé draws. She can feel Xion’s eyes on her, but says nothing. Until Xion does. “What are you making?”

“A picture.” Naminé shows the picture in question to Xion. Of Sora with a dolphin’s tail, in Atlantica. “It’s the memories.”

“Oh. The memories that I took.” Xion looks down again. 

Naminé bites her lip. Reaches out and puts her hand on Xion’s. “It’s alright. You didn’t mean to, and we’re fixing it.”

Xion’s warm hand is the exact opposite of Ruse’s usually cold hands. 

Naminé swallows. Forges onward. Xion...Naminé wants to be friends with her, if she possibly can. 

(“Ask someone about themselves, people love to talk about themselves!”)

“Do you have any friends?”

She wants to kick herself as Xion’s face falls immediately. “I’m sorry!”

“No, it’s okay. Do...do you want me to tell you about them?”

Naminé smiles, her glow softening. “I would love it.”

“With Axel and Roxas, we go eat ice cream...”

As Xion talks, Naminé listens. Ice cream? Maybe Xion would like to get ice cream with her sometime. She’ll have to ask Ruse or Riku about asking her. 

Roxas, Roxas. That’s Sora’s Nobody, Xion’s friend? She wants to meet him. 

Naminé’s grip tightens around her notebook. She’ll convince Guide to help. 

From her notebook, three individuals stare up at her. One with red hair, one with black, the third with blond. All are wearing black. 

She’s never met them, any but Xion. But now...she wants to.

Naminé glances at the pod in the room. 

After Sora, of course. 

* * *

Ruse hops and skips as she moves. It’s so completely different in movement from everyone else Xion has ever known, enough that she can’t help but watch. 

“Heya, Xion, you coming? We need to ask about the Charity stuff!”

“Coming!” She calls back, hurrying her step. 

Hollow Bastion is so very big and not having to avoid anyone... it’s very different from any other world Xion’s been to. She wants to see more of it. 

“Now, it’s this place right here...Mosh told us to go here to ask.” Ruse pushes the door open and walks right inside. 

It’s dark inside the house. But her eyes adjust quickly enough. There’s a Moogle inside. Bigger than the others, Xion notes. Her hands itch. 

The Moogle turns away from...something, towards them. “Ah. You’re the ones Mosh sent, kupo.”

“Yep! Now...” Ruse rubs her hands together. “Tell us about Charity.”

The Moogle nods. “This one is called Mog. He/him.”

He/him? That makes him a boy, right? Xion whispers her question to Ruse, who nods. Oh. Good to know. 

(Something she can share with Roxas later.)

“As for the story of Charity...it starts with a man. A Man of Mystery, with a cloak as dark as night.” Mog gestures to Xion. “Like yours.”

Oh, that’s interesting. Xion has never really thought about who might have worn her coat before her, but this...hm. Something to think about. 

“This man....he wanted the Moogle Recipe, kupo. A way to connect with the children, he claimed.” Mog’s wings fold back, looking like crumpled paper as they do. “To support them, as they went to fight the Darkness, kupo. To create  _ Moogles  _ for the express purpose to support those children as they  _ died.”  _ The Moogle spits the words out like Heartless poison.

Created to die...Xion feels her fists curling up. That’s...she doesn’t have words, only that there is something heavy in her stomach at the thought. 

“Did you give it to him?” Ruse asks, eyes bright in the low light of the room. “The Recipe? You had to, right?”

Xion knows that Ruse knows the answer to that, just like Xion herself does. What else could it be?

Mog lowers his head sadly. “Of course Moogle-kind did. What choice was there? But we gave it, on a sworn oath, kupo. With conditions.”

Conditions. Xion swallows. What could those be?

“Oh, that doesn’t sound good,” is Ruse’s commentary on that. 

“The man could have the Recipe, so long he did not use any material from the Realm of Light to craft them.”

“Ah, so he used the Darkness,” Ruse says quietly. 

Mog nods. “Yes.”

The Darkness, like Heartless. Xion doesn’t know a lot about the Dark, but wouldn’t be pretty difficult? But also...she wants to know the end. So she won’t ask. (For now.)

“Thus our kin, the Charity came to be, kupo. Eating bad memories and dreams, protecting the children,” Mog finishes. 

“What did they look like, the Charity?” Ruse’s eyes are intent, almost glowing. There’s something here that her fellow Replica is looking for, searching for, but Xion has no idea what it could be. 

Mog chooses his words carefully, clearly thinking out loud. “Like Moogles, but not. More...like cat animals, kupo?”

“Charity.  _ Chirithy.”  _ Ruse’s whisper comes out as a hiss, almost. “Not Charity, but  _ Chirithy. _ ”

She rises to her feet and begins to pace. Her booted feet whack violently against the tiled floor. “Of course, of course...why am I so  _ dumb?  _ You should have told me!” Ruse shouts at the ceiling. 

“Ruse?” Xion checks, still sitting. Mog is awfully still. 

Ruse waves a hand. “Whatever, keep going.”

Mog rubs his paws together. “Your Hearts...are like Moogles’, kupo. But you use Darkness. So you must be like a “Chirithy” instead, kupo.”

Ruse throws up her hands. There’s a personal offense to the gesture. “But we don’t look like Moogles! Or even Chirithies! How is that possible!?”

“Is there another way?” Xion asks, even as her gut tells her, this is right. This is the  _ answer  _ she’s been looking for. “To make the Recipe make a Nobody-looking person?”

Surprisingly, the answer comes from Ruse herself, not the Moogle. The words come out, slowly, one by one. 

“I...guess...if they did the ‘core’ part of the Recipe and not the body.”

Mog’s red ball bobs. “That is indeed possible, kupo.”

“And then put the core into a Nobody body, to make a Replica,” Xion supposes. That seems like the idea should fit. 

There’s an odd look on Ruse’s face, as she looks at Xion. “Yeah. That’s...pretty much it, exactly.”

“Yet your cores and blood are still that of a Chirithy’s, kupo,” Mog states firmly. “Of this.” In the air, he traces a symbol out with glowing sparkles.

An outline of a heart, with curves coming off of it. Like the symbol of a Heartless, but not. Xion frowns, trying to recall if she’s ever seen this before. 

A sharp inhale from next to her. 

“Dream Eater,” Ruse breathes. “Replicas are Dream Eaters.”

“Dream Eater,” Xion tries the word out. “But how is that different from a Replica?”

Ruse shakes her head. “It isn’t, since it seems we as Replicas are also Dream Eaters. Eating...”

“The energy of the Soul,” Mog continues. “Moogles eat the energy of the worlds’ Souls produced by their Hearts, in the form of Elemental Magic. Dream Eaters, kupo, Spirits, eat that energy as well, but differently.”

What DiZ said earlier, about Xion taking in Axel’s and Roxas’s Will to get to the memories...this is why. She’s been...

“I was  _ eating  _ them. My friends,” she says, almost blankly. 

Ruse shakes her head. “It’s not your fault...I must have been doing it too. But I’ve also been eating the Materia stuff, that must have helped me...”

Mog spreads his wings. “It’s natural, kupo. Don’t worry, kupo.”

“But I  _ hurt  _ them,” Xion whispers, wrapping her hands together. “That can’t be “natural” can it? To hurt your friends.”

Replica, Dream Eater...she’s anything but a Nobody, it seems. She has answers, but she want them?

...yes. Knowing would be better than not knowing, knowing enough to stay away and save her friends rather than helplessly watching them die in front of her, without the real reason. 

But her chest hurts. 

Mog reaches out, patting her hand with his paw. “It’s alright, kupo. With strong Hearts to replenish their Soul, they’ll be fine, kupo.”

Oh.  _ Oh.  _ “They don’t have  _ any  _ Hearts. That’s how.”

“But if we fix that...” Ruse’s eyes are bright again, with a building excitement that Xion can’t hope to match. “You wouldn’t have to worry!”

Ruse walks over to the door. “Thanks a lot, Mog, but we need to find out more.”

The Moogle bows. “Of course, kupo. Also...” Mog hesitates, just a little. “Could you find the Recipe, kupo? I despise asking this of our kin, kupo, but help is needed.”

“Of course.” Ruse swears, fingers tracing the heart-like symbol on her Dark Suit. “I’ll bring it back if we find it.”

“Thanks be, kupo.” Another bow, one deeper than the last. 

Outside the Moogle House is so bright, when they’ve been sitting in the dark for so long. Ruse keeps blinking all crazily and nearly runs into a wall, before Xion rescues her from it. But she perks up soon enough and points the way she wants to go, Xion following behind as Ruse explains in bright words that the castle _ must  _ have what they want inside. 

It’s the biggest place around Hollow Bastion, after all. 

“If I were a moron who wanted to create new life with science, where would I put my secret files?” Ruse muses, surveying the ruined castle ahead. She does the action with such seriousness, her nose in the air...

Xion can’t help but laugh, hiding her smile behind her hand. “That’s pretty mean of you, Ruse.”

“But you thought it was funny,” Ruse points out, with a smile of her own. 

“Only because of the way you did it!”

Ruse leans towards in, conspiratory. “Humor is  _ all  _ in the delivery, Xion. That’s how it works.”

Laughter...who would ever have guessed that Xion would be doing a Somebody thing, a  _ friend  _ thing? Or that it would feel so good?

(She wants to see Axel and Roxas again. So very badly.)

“Don’t worry.” Xion jumps slightly, at Ruse speaking again. “We’ll figure something out, for your friends.”

“How...?” How did she guess that’s what Xion was thinking about?

Ruse’s purple-blue eyes look sad. “You’re a good friend. Better than I am, really.”

She points at the huge castle. “Our answers will probably be in there. Some of them, at least. But I don’t really want to raid the Castle That Never Was right now...”

Xion can’t help but shiver at that. “I don’t want to go back there. Ever.” They can just go to Twilight Town instead...or the beach, like they promised!

This castle, though...why this castle? She’ll ask Ruse after they’re done here, since the other Replica is still thinking things through. 

“Inside...” Ruse taps her chin, thinking. “It’ll be big. Too much to cover if we stay together...do you mind splitting up?”

Splitting up? Xion shakes her head. “It’ll be just like a mission. We did that all the time.”

“Well, this is  _ our  _ mission, not the Organization’s. So if you don’t like it...” Ruse leaves her words hanging off in invitation.

“No, it’s a great idea.”  _ Their _ mission. Xion likes the sound of that. Hers. 

Ruse grins. “Great! See you inside!” She runs up ahead, leaping from precarious rock to precarious rock, as nimble as the birds Xion once watched in Wonderland.

Answers in there, huh? Xion huffs out a long breath. Summons her Keyblade, warm in her grip. Well, if they’re in there, she’ll find them. Find a way to be with her friends once more. 

(She has to.)

* * *

  
  


The entire place stinks of  _ rot.  _ Ugh. Terrible. 

Probably a side-effect of the Heartless that spent who knows how long here. Or maybe Maleficent? Who knows with that witch?

“Man, Riku, what were you thinking?” The words come out of my mouth kinda nasually, since I’m pinching my nose shut. 

_ You should leave.  _

“Why? What’s wrong with me looking for your stuff?” I tap my chin. “Oh, are you  _ scared?” _

_ Of course not! It’s merely...risky. After what you gave to the Fey.  _

“Ah, the password. Right, right.” I flap a hand in front of my face, both to show my disdain and to get the gross rotting smell away from me. 

Walk down the falling apart halls, with plenty of Heartless to smash into paste. Dark, but not so dark that I can’t see. ...Is that normal? Is that part of my Dream Eater-ness, the absolute weirdness of being a Replica but also something more?

I need... I need to figure this out. Wandering around alone in this castle should give me that time, especially if I do end up finding more answers in it. 

But I don’t need anything for Vexen. I never have. 

(What has he given me anyway? Other than being annoying?)

“It’ll be fine! I mean, what are the odds anyone from the Organization will actually be here about that?”

A person in that familiar coat ahead, hood up. They’re (he’s) leaning down, picking up a scrap of paper off the floor. 

I skitter backwards, practically throwing myself back against the wall to build up some distance. Sliding downwards to avoid being seen. Oh no oh no. 

“Beans.” Ah man, should have known better than to tempt fate...

_ One would think that you would know better, after all of the situations you’ve been through,  _ Vexen notes. The worst part is that he’s not wrong. 

Hm, can I crawl out? It’s such an open area, that doorway. Only luck had the Nobody looking the other way when I walked in. Will I be that lucky on the way out?

...No way.

Do I have any other choice? Ergh.

_ You need to get out of here now.  _ Vexen’s really nervous. Does he know who this guy is? Probably. I could figure it out eventually, given enough time. I don’t really want to be around here, for that amount of time needed. 

Think, think. There’s gotta be a way o-

“Oh, what do we have here?” Hood, right in my face-!

“Holy-!” I jerk back, nearly fall over. My panic is only overtaken by the freaking out Vexen’s doing inside of my head. 

The Nobody lowers his hood. It’s...that single eye, that eyepatch with dark scars peeking around the edges of it,  _ fricking Xigbar.  _ Great, now I want to join Vexen in panicking. 

“I’ll just...leave.” I point to the door, as casually as I can make the movement. Nothing to see here, I don’t matter here, everything’s good. “Since you’re busy and all.”

“Leave?” A laugh, and a shake of his head. “As if! You look like a good lead.”

The arrowguns are out, angled towards me. 

“Stay right there, if you know what’s good for you.”

Well. I know what’s good for me, and that’s not good. 

_ Get out, get out.  _

I can feel the pulse in my neck, beating away. I am aware of my shallow breaths, the chill building in my skin. I am  _ deathly  _ aware of the cold stone against my back, of the man looking down at me. Threatening me. 

I know what hides behind that careless grin, that scarred face. I know his  _ true  _ name. I know that he will not hesitate to kill me should I stand in the way of what he wants most.

(A path that I am taking, with my existence.)

(The realization is...terrifying.)

In the face of that, I try for a kick. Hard as I can, despite the lack of leverage, towards Xigbar’s knee. The hit lands and Xigbar yells in response, leg folding over. 

At the same time, I roll onto my right side and bring out my shield on my left. Move my body, curl up almost, to defend myself the best I can against the inevitable retaliation. 

Xigbar doesn’t disappoint. 

Three shots whistle through the air, hitting my shield with a tremendous  _ clang.  _

Now, there’s a problem I have here. Well, multiple problems, but the biggest one is my shield is preventing me from moving much or attacking back. I’m stuck. Turtle stuck. 

My greatest defense is my greatest liability. 

Good thing I’m not  _ all  _ shield. 

Put my free hand on the ground, let the ice creep out from it. Well,  _ scream  _ out as quickly as I can manage across the stone. Slippery. Slippery enough for me to roll onto it, quickly. Use my shield to pull my body weight around, almost slingshotting myself as I slide across my newly created ice rink. 

Move. Move. 

_ More ice,  _ Vexen mutters. A freezing surge, somewhere in the area of my chest, and the ice output increases  _ dramatically.  _ Everywhere at once. 

“Take this!”

Xigbar shoots at my back again, but my shield is there once again to reflect the bolts.

I may be a replica, but I’m no Xion. Not enough raw power to effectively kick Xigbar’s ass. Maybe enough to run away, though. 

Keep churning out the ice, keep sliding through the halls. Flip over, so I’m kneeling in the shield as it skids along. Like I’m sledding. Cool.

(Literally.)

_ Hm. A decent pun.  _

A glint of  _ something,  _ coming from the opposite direction. Move shield-! Too late. The hit knocks me back, off the shield, goes  _ through  _ me- !

I scream. “AAAHHHHH!”

Try to move,  _ pain.  _ There’s, there’s...four of those crystal arrow things Xigbar uses. Going right through the meat of my left shoulder. Through to the rock floor underneath. I try to roll over, sit up,  _ anything.  _ I can’t, can’t. It’s like I’m stapled to the ground. 

_ He’s trapped us!  _ Vexen just about wails. 

My shield fades and I can’t summon it back. The crystals spark at me every time I try. Increasing the pain, the awful awful pain. 

“Clever of you, sneak. But not clever enough. You’ll need a Save Point to get away from me.” Boots move silently across the floor, around my slowly growing blood puddle. It’s very...green. 

Wait, what?  _ Save  _ Point, not  _ Safe  _ Point. That’s...how is he using that? Only I use those words connected to the green spots across the worlds. 

That can’t be good. What’s the connection? What’s-?

“So you’re the one that took care of Vexen.” The Nobody squats down next to me. His joints, where his limbs meet one another, I can’t help but notice, are odd. Like he’s forcing them to bend the wrong way.

“And those...” He taps at his scars, the ones surrounding his eyepatch. On the right side of his face. Like mine, if older and less raw looking. “We match.”

I grit my teeth. The pain-! Can’t focus. It’s...ah, I don’t know. It burns cold and hot at the same time. 

Drip, drip. There goes my blood. Looks like antifreeze, almost. 

_ Let me take care of this,  _ Vexen says grimly. 

In the corner of my eye, I...well, I  _ feel  _ it more than see it. Ice, coming out of me, freezing around the crystal shots pinning me into the floor. Stopping the bleeding. 

Xigbar lets out a whistle. “Oh, look at that. You’re a survivor, aren’t you?” A gloved finger tap-taps against my new ice cast. “Built to last. Maybe Xemnas should have grabbed you instead of our dear Poppet. Poor thing’s falling apart all over the place.”

I narrow my eyes at him. Both from the pain and trying to nonverbally tell this man I’m sick of his shit. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, ah, ah!” Xigbar waggles a finger. “I’m asking the questions here, sneak. First...” He leans closer, placing his hand on the ice. The ends of the missile are still sticking out of it. He places a finger on one and slowly, ever so slowly,  _ pushes it deeper.  _

“AAAAHHHH!” I scream. I can’t help it, agony shooting through my veins. I would thrash more, if I weren’t so thoroughly trapped. 

_ Number II!  _ A hiss.

“Why are you here?”

“Answers,” I hiss. It’s true, isn’t it? Very true. That’s why I’m in this stupid castle with...Xion. Oh no. Not Xion. 

Xigbar tilts his head in that fashion I’ve only seen from the safety of the TV screen before. Smiling in that all too familiar way. 

“That’s right. No lies here. Now, who are you  _ with?” _

“No one,” I lie quickly. Too quickly. 

“AAAAHHHH!” More agony. 

Xigbar shakes his head. “Lying? Don’t bother, I know Poppet’s here too. We’ve got a welcome party all planned out, me and Axel.”

_ He’s talking about Xion,  _ Vexen says quietly. Like I don’t already know. 

No, no, no. Axel won’t kill Xion, not at this point in time when they’re close friends. But he won’t hesitate to drag her back to Hell itself. 

Xion...she’s strong. She got away from Xigbar and Axel with no trouble, in another timeline. But an ambush...anyone can fall to an ambush.

I would know. 

(Thorny hands, tearing into me, pink hair, a snide smile.)

“Don’t...touch...her.” I grind out. Flex the fingers of my other hand. 

You know what? Screw this. 

_ Don’t!  _ Too late, Vexen. 

I grab at the closest thing to me: a boot. Grab and pinch and  _ pull.  _ Somehow, against all odds, it comes off. What’s underneath...

I can’t help staring. Oh. That’s  _ weird.  _

There’s a hoof there. Like a goat’s or cow’s or something. Black fur, streaked with silver. Just like the hair on Xigbar’s head, I faintly realize somewhere. In that single spot in my head where I (or Vexen) am not screaming.

The boot is snatched back. The hoof comes down, as I look into a finally serious yellow eye. Oops. 

_ Oh no.  _

I’ve probably made a mistake here. Beans. 

My wrist goes  _ crunch.  _

I go, “AAAAHHHHH!”

Xigbar rises from his squat, casually fitting the boot back on his unnatural foot. 

“I’ll be back, once the mission’s done,” he fits in, once my throat’s finished expressing my distress and pain. 

“I’ll...be...gone...jerk,” I pant out. 

A laugh. “You think you can escape? As if!” The air suddenly smells of dust and musty-ness, as the Nobody uses a Dark Corridor to leave. 

Just like that, I’m alone. Alone with my pain. Four crystals trapping my shoulder. A possibly (probably) broken wrist. Blood puddles.

And the humming in my head. Vexen. Why is he humming?

Close my eyes. Breath. Have to help Xion. But trapped. Injured. Can’t get out. Breath. 

That’s all I can do right now, breath. 

Get out soon. Save Xion. But breath first.

My wrist (the maybe broken one) is cold. More ice. Feels like more ice. 

I blink slowly. The struggle to keep my eyes open is pretty real. Really real.

Enough that it takes a while to realize that someone in a black coat is standing over me. 

“Done already?” I slur. Shit. Beans. I don’t wanna go with Xigbar to Hell Castle. Or have him kill me, that’s no good too. 

_ That’s not Xigbar.  _

What? Who else would know that I’m here and would be wearing the Organization’s uniform? It has to be Xigbar. 

Gloved hands carefully lift my frozen wrist. Ahhh. I bite my lip, hard enough to draw blood. Green blood, more to add to the mess everywhere else here. Sure, why not.

Ahhh. Am I screaming out loud? Can’t tell. 

One hand goes up, pushes the hood back. Underneath...

I blink. Once. Twice. Three times. This can’t be happening to me. It’s a teenager. But not just any teenager.

That dark skin, yellow eyes, silver hair...there’s only one person that teen could be.

Xehanort.

Okay. This calls for a real swear. 

“What the...fuck?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You cannot say that Chirithy canonically eats memories, and show Xion w/ the Black Coat Nightmare in KH DDD and think I would not come to this idea.  
> Extra Notes: Replicas aren't *strictly* Dream Eaters. They're cousins, much closer cousins to Dream Eaters than they are to Moogles. But to get more details, you'll have to ask Vexen on that.  
> Mwaaahahaha! Finals are done! My Madness is Free!


	32. Unravel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Xehanort closes a time loop, Xion faces an old friend, and our Hero gets confused. 
> 
> Some ghosts pass on while others stick around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for cliffhangers. This and the next chapters will be happening right in succession timeline-wise.

Xehanort hadn’t been expecting to run into  _ her,  _ of all people, on his way to check the status of the Garden of Assemblage. Not this early. 

Perhaps he should have. Ruse has always been prone to getting herself into the most dangerous of places. 

(“Ha! Like you would do any differently!”)

He kneels to examine her wounds. Broken wrist, four arrowgun darts buried in her shoulder...covered with a thick layer of frost. 

Past experience with Replicas informs him that the injuries will heal quickly. Past experience with injuries in general states that if he leaves the darts and frost be, Ruse will heal over them and injure herself further in the process. Since Xehanort doesn’t remember Ruse saying anything about past wounds bothering her in the future...

He suppose he’ll fix this. 

Easy enough to break the iced wrist free, with a twist of his own hand. Just as easy to set that same wrist, holding the bones in place as replica regeneration does its unnatural work. Fed to hurried completion off of his own Darkness. The Replica stirs but does not wake. 

Something else in her Heart  _ does,  _ however. The source of the ice, a creeping ghost that should not have been there. Hiding in the shadows and cracks. 

“Ah,” Xehanort breathes, “There you are.”

Number IV, of his future Nobody’s Organization. A dead shadow that certainly should not be hiding in Ruse’s Heart.  _ Feeding  _ on it. 

Pull it out. It fights him, of course. Ghosts always do. But Xehanort’s Will is stronger, sharper. He wins, of course, holding essence in hand. 

It  _ screams-  _ Xehanort crushes it. One weapon, to join the rest. Free the Soul to rejoin the Heart and Body, while he claims the Will that forms a tool for him to use. 

To test the First Vessel with. 

The Garden of Assemblage is built specifically for the purpose in mind, to gather the Souls of fallen Organization Nobodies for Xehanort to use later. To track, should the Nobodies ever be recompleted. Yet Ruse still managed to carry one of the Souls that was meant to go  _ there  _ inside. Replicas. 

“Always a surprise.”

Break the ice holding her shoulder together and to the ground, his gloved fingers close around the closest dart.. Delicate. If Xehanort pulls too fast, too hard, it’ll shatter, leaving painful shards embedded in delicate joints and tendons. 

Pulling downwards, dragging it out...leaves an open wound but no pieces left behind. 

He repeats the process three more times. 

Leaving four triangular holes weeping green blood. 

They’ll heal, of course. But...

Xehanort reaches out, pulls on the Darkness already present... _ encourages  _ it to pull the wounds closed. Leaving a scar in the shape of an X behind, woven into Ruse’s flesh itself. Then, allow the Dark Suit to reweave itself over it. 

The Recusant’s Sigil. An easy enough way to tell if Ruse is present or not. 

...This must be how he was able to track her in his past, in her future to come. Clever. 

While he’s next to her...Xehanort carefully lifts an eyelid up. Sees the eye underneath. Still indigo. Of course. It’s not time yet. 

Xehanort’s eyes slide around the room, retaking in the...blood everywhere, as well as in a thin coat dried on her face. A disaster of a mess. An almost murder scene. Blood green enough that no one will care. What measure is a non-human, after all?

He’ll leave it be. 

Ruse, on the other hand...she’s light enough in his arms. Fairly still. 

“We’ll have a discussion elsewhere,” he decides, as he allows the Darkness in-between to swallow him and his burden up. 

Xehanort has the time, after all. 

* * *

Xion has never seen so many books in one place before. 

It’s...she cranes her neck to take in the towering shelves. 

Amazing. In a different way from finding out who she is, from eating sea-salt ice cream with her best friends. 

Like...the night sky, at Agrabah. Big and overwhelming and something she could never hope to see all details of.

How will she ever find anything in here?

Xion steps over to the nearest shelf. Searches the book spines, for the words “Dream Eater,” “Chirithy,” or maybe even “Replica” if she’s really lucky. 

None of the above are there. 

A really bright blue book catches her eye, labeled  _ Azal Volume II _ . Surrounded by a bunch of other books in the exact same color. Carefully, she lifts it off the shelf and flips it open to the first page. 

“The Secrets of the Immortals?” she reads out, after coughing away the small cloud of dust her action produced. 

Sounds...not like what she's looking for. 

Xion surveys the room again, after carefully putting the book back. There’s simply too many books for her to search them one by one. Unless she wants to be here...for longer than she’s been alive, at the very least. 

“Maybe I should try to find a computer.” Computers have lots of information on them and are easier to search. Xion’ll probably be able to find something on a computer. 

Where would a computer be...Xion wanders deeper into the book room. Lets the place swallow her up almost. Which isn’t a problem. She has an  _ excellent  _ sense of direction. Besides, she can just Corridor out if she gets stuck. 

Among the shelves are patches of brightly colored books like the  _ Azal  _ ones, with titles that sound just as strange as  _ Azal  _ does. Everything else...well, she doesn’t want to spend forever here, like she said before. 

At the top of some more stairs, there’s a dark hallway. Xion peers nervously down it. Any enemies? Seems prime Heartless territory...

There’s a scream. Loud and ear-piercing and...she knows that voice. 

“Ruse,” Xion breathes. She needs to find the other Replica  _ now.  _

Out of the book room, towards the front of the castle where they split up. Xion  _ runs.  _ And as she runs, there’s another wailing scream. 

Faster,  _ faster.  _

She gets to the front and there...nearly runs into a tall individual. One with bright red hair and in the Organization’s coat. 

“Axel! You’re here?” Xion gasps, barely managing to skid to a stop. Right in front of her friend. 

He looks so much better than the last time she saw him, it’s almost unbelievable. His face marks are darker, his skin less pale, and his chest no longer shakes. No coughs. 

She’s made the right choice, in leaving, if it brings this. If her friends get to live. 

(She won’t be the death of them. She  _ won’t. _ )

More screaming. Xion stiffens. Axel’s shoulders go tense, her eyes catch, but no other visible movement than that on his part. 

“Axel, please, I need to help her,” Xion almost begs. Whatever’s happening to Ruse must be truly awful. She  _ has  _ to help her, like Ruse helped her at Beast’s Castle. 

“I can’t. Xion, whoever that is...they don’t matter. Not right now.”

Don’t  _ matter.  _ It’s almost like Saïx telling her that she’s  _ broken,  _ a  _ failure.  _ Axel can’t be saying these things, he can’t be. “She needs  _ help _ .”

“And you need to come back to the Organization. They’ll  _ destroy  _ you.”

Xion shakes her head. No. She won’t. 

“Please, Xion.” Axel holds out his hands. Pleading with her. “Please come back with me.”

Oh, her heart aches. She  _ wants  _ to, wants to see Roxas again and eat ice cream on the clocktower and talk about the events of the day.

But.

She’s a Replica, a Soul-eating Dream Eater, and that will be their deaths. It almost was, in Roxas’ case. 

Xion’s crying. The tears are sticky on her cheeks and won’t stop coming. “I can’t, Axel, I  _ can’t!” _

Slitted green eyes go cold. “Then I’ll make you.”

Her Keyblade is out. Ready for Axel, as he whirls out his own flaming chakrams. Heat rises, fire rises. 

The only way out is to fight. 

“You can run, but I’ll  _ always bring you back!” _

* * *

I wake, air hissing out of my lungs. Almost a gasp, but too whispery to really be one. 

Quiet. 

Takes a moment to realize what’s wrong with that. Usually Vexen would be complaining right now, or pointing out something I’ve done wrong. 

There’s nothing. 

“Vexen?”

No answer. A echo, almost. Like I’m speaking to an empty room and that empty room is my head. 

That’s probably a metaphor for something. 

I don’t really want to think about it. Awfully...lonely, almost. 

Don’t miss him, don’t miss him. Just...don’t. 

I’m also leaning against a wall instead of being stuck to the floor, but I think that’s somewhat less related to my missing Vexen predicament. My wrist is whole and so is my shoulder. What?

“The Nobody has moved on,” Someone says. I jerk my head up, towards the source. 

...

Guess what I saw before passing out  _ wasn’t  _ a hallucination after all. Or rather,  _ who _ .

Xehanort. Fricking  _ Xehanort,  _ of all people. 

“What are you doing here?!” I flap my arms around. Just a bit. 

Okay, maybe more than a bit and more on the frantic side. 

“What- what’s going on?!”

Around me...I’m in that office place from Kingdom Hearts II. The room that looks absolutely wrecked with Apprentice Xehanort’s portrait on the wall. 

Um. Did Xehanort  _ carry  _ me? 

My shoulder aches but there are no darts in it. My wrist doesn’t ache at all. There’s blood dried on my face, but otherwise...I’m okay. Which is  _ really  _ weird. 

Now, don’t get me wrong, I  _ really  _ don’t want to deal with Xigbar. But dealing with a baby Xehanort could possibly be worse for me, at this point in time. Since “Xigbar” still has to play nice and all. 

“I don’t know you at  _ all!”  _ I point dramatically in his direction. Well, kinda lie but not really. I  _ don’t want to know  _ him. 

“You do not,” Xehanort says. “But you  _ will  _ know me.”

Wait, is he imply what I think he’s implying?

“No way you know me from the future. That’s absolutely crazy,” I state flatly. Slowly sitting up against the wall behind me some more. 

Gold eyes blink slowly as Xehanort seems to visibly consider my denial. 

“As you put it, time is a ‘big ball of wibbly wobbly, timey wimey stuff.’ Does that sound like a phrase you would use?” Xehanort leans forward on his thighs, hands clasped in his lap. Watching me intently. 

I sit there, in horrified bemusement. That Xehanort, of all people, just used a  _ Doctor Who  _ quote on me...man, I have to believe him, don’t I?

“Uh, I guess. Um, why are you here?” Please don’t be here for me...I know that’s kinda self-centered, but why else would the Big Bad Villain be talking to me?

“Finding you was mere chance,” Xehanort says, somehow managing to not answer my spoken question and to instead answer my unspoken one. 

Man, he’s good. No wonder Sora got all confused. 

“Alright, nice to know. But doesn’t really answer what you  _ are  _ here for.” I tap my fingers against my thigh. What would a young Xehanort be looking for in the ruin of Radiant Garden? Number one possibility... “Did your future self leave something for you to find?”

Xehanort tilts his head. I feel like a bug under a microscope. “Decent guess,” he allows.

Yes or no, bub, it’s that simple. Ugh. 

If I push...well, I have a feeling that I’ll just bug him and he’ll get into a monologue spiral. 

My fingers claw at my facial scars as I think. Peeling the dried blood off. And my eyes catch on that stupid portrait of Apprentice Xehanort on the wall. 

“Must be weird.” I jerk my head towards the portrait. “Your face on the wall of some strange world...”

Xehanort gives the portrait the shortest of glances. “I’ve seen much stranger.”

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t make  _ that  _ not weird,” I point out, with a wide sweeping gesture towards the picture. “You gonna take it with you?”

As soon as the question leaves my mouth, I want to hit myself. Holy frick, that was  _ stupid.  _ I’m so dumb. 

I get a  _ look  _ from those gold eyes. And then even scarier: blatant  _ consideration _ . “Do you want it?”

I sputter. Back up. Not that I can, back hitting the wall. “No way!” Wait, was that correct thing to say to the subject of the picture himself? Uh.

A  _ smirk.  _ “Of course you don’t.”

...What the heck. Seriously. 

My stomach grumbles, cutting through my possibly homicidal-leaning thoughts. Which can only be a good thing, in this case. 

Food, food...Xehanort can wait, I’m  _ starving!  _ What do I have...? 

I’m out of Jellied Shards, what a pain. Maybe a granola bar? Yeah, still got those. 

I take one bar out and start to unwrap it. 

Instantly, those piercing eyes snap to the food in my hands. 

There is a surreality to this entire situation, as I wave the granola bar in Xehanort’s direction. “Um, do you want one?”

A gloved hand slowly turns over, reaching out for my offering. 

Alrighty then. There’s no Vexen in my head screaming what a bad idea this is, so...

I hand it over and take out another for myself. 

“Oh gross, this one’s a berry kind.” I hold my new snack out towards Xehanort. “Wanna trade?”

A cold look. Geeze, I didn’t know better, I would say he had the ice powers here. “No.”

“Jerk,” I huff, biting into my least favorite kind of granola bar. DiZ refuses to get more granola bars until I’ve “finished what’s left,” he says, which means a  _ lot  _ of stupid berry bars. Ew. Gross gross. 

Wait, I just called Xehanort a jerk. I freeze. Let my eyes ever so slowly drift over to my unwanted companion. His granola bar is gone. Vanished. 

Uh. Maybe I shouldn’t question that too much.

“Why are you  _ still  _ here? I don’t have anything to offer you.” I’m just...a replica of Riku. Something that shouldn’t still be alive, at this point. 

I don’t even have a Keyblade and a Keyblade’s one of the most important things to have, to be a proper protagonist in Kingdom Hearts. A person’s just a side character, without one. Xehanort in the games certainly didn’t pay any heed to people without a Keyblade and to the vast majority of people that did. 

What’s different? What has my future self  _ done?  _

“You have an answer to a question of mine that I would like to know, very much,” is Xehanort’s answer. 

What? “Why didn’t you just ask my future self, then?”

“I  _ did _ ,” Xehanort outright  _ huffs,  _ looking petulant of all things. “But you weren’t ready to answer. Now...”

His gold eyes rest on me, as I swallow the last bite of my granola bar. 

He looks away. “You’re not ready, either.”

“That’s...bad to hear?” I try cautiously. My mouth is dry, from the tart berry chunks and the weight of this conversation. “What’s the question? I could try it.”

“No. I’ll meet you again,” he decides, rising to his feet. “After I face the First Vessel, and once you have saved me...I’ll find you and ask you. Be prepared.”

Wait,  _ saved  _ him? What? “What are you talking about? Can you just explain something please, I’m begging you.”

“Unleash your Darkness. Then we’ll meet once more.”

A pause. Very dramatic. 

“Good-bye, Ruse.”

Just like that, Young Xehanort is gone. Not even a flash of Dark Corridor. Probably froze time and then dramatically walked out, ergh. Or some similar nonsense.

My recently shot shoulder aches. My head hurts. There’s also no one complaining in it, which reminds me. Vexen is  _ gone.  _ Dead, for the second time. 

Apparently I save baby Nort at some point (weird, since he’s obviously the villain), and quote Doctor Who at him. And we share food, if the casual way he expected me to hand over a granola bar means anything. 

Vexen’s  _ gone.  _

I need to find Xion. I need to go back to Namine and talk with her. 

I need to...I get up and go to the door. Try it. 

It’s...locked. 

“Of course it is,” I hiss. Try again. Still locked, hasn’t magically unlocked itself since I last checked. 

Why the hell did Xehanort lock me in here (it had to be him, who else would have it been)? As mentioned before, I don’t have a Keyblade. I can’t magically unlock doors with the wave of my hand.

I’m...trapped. With no one to bounce ideas off of. Vexen’s gone. Gone gone gone. 

I put my head in my hands. What do I  _ do?  _

Other than glare at the stupid Xehanort picture, of course. With that smug face... “You’re no help,” I growl under my breath.

Fricking Xehanort. 

(Vexen’s gone.)

_ But I’m still here.  _

* * *

Xion and Ruse aren’t back yet. Which is...unusual. Ruse normally gets back from whatever she does long before Riku gets back from Organization scouting. 

He didn’t think that having Xion along would change anything, but...

Something’s changed. Something could have gone wrong. 

“Where did Ruse say she was going today?” Riku attempts to ask casually. Never mind that he’s never done anything casually in his  _ life.  _

DiZ turns towards him. “She claimed to be heading to Hollow Bastion.”

“Hollow Bastion?” Riku swallows. The memories of that place...he doesn’t want to go back. Not after what he did there, not after what happened to Sora and Kairi and the princesses there. 

“Perhaps you should check on them,” DiZ suggests. “It has been quite some time.”

He seems...worried. DiZ, of all people. 

Riku  _ really  _ needs to find the missing Replicas. 

There are too many things that can go wrong, at Hollow Bastion. 

Darkness swirls around him as he takes his leave. To the castle where everything went so very wrong. 

Hopefully history won’t repeat itself. 

Riku breathes in, scenting the air. Searching for those trace amounts of Darkness Xion and Ruse leave everywhere, part of their Replica make-up. If he had to make comparisons for what they smell like...Xion is like kettle corn, and Ruse is like cider, almost. Sugary and cinnamon smells that are easy to pick up against the tar of the Heartless. 

The trails head towards the castle. Of course. Riku’s heart sinks down to his boots. 

At the front...Riku’s breath catches in his chest. There are scorch marks  _ everywhere,  _ the signs of a fight. 

Xion. Xion fought here. Against not Heartless, but...

Nobody  _ stink.  _ One burning and the other of too much dust. Those two...follow Xion’s path off to the side, away from the castle, not Ruse’s. Ruse, who seems to have walked forward into the castle alone. That castle...Riku hisses between his teeth. That place is dangerous, but far less dangerous without a mastermind living there to make a mess of things. 

Ruse can hold on just a little longer. Xion has the Organization on her tail. 

Riku steadies himself and follows Xion’s scent. His Darkness seethes inside,  _ begging _ to be used. 

The path leads downward, along the crystals and chasms far below. The place looks far more empty without the waterfalls everywhere filling the place up with mist. If one peers over the edge, they can see down to the paths below. See the people ahead. 

There are Heartless here. Noisy and will draw attention if Riku’s not cautious enough. A deep breath and he cloaks himself in the Dark. Hides himself from the Heartless as one of them. 

His disguise comes with a hefty price, a hefty whisper. 

_ You acknowledge the Power of Darkness at last.  _

Riku ignores the voice, moving quickly along the path, among the shimmering crystals. Unfortunately, the voice is not keen on being ignored.

_ You use my teachings, my knowledge, boy. Are you not eager to know more? _

“Never,” Riku whispers, under his breath. Never, never. Not when he knows what price Ansem will demand. 

_ Foolish. Your fear will allow Darkness to control you instead of the other way around.  _

“Enough.” Riku focuses. Xion’s scent is getting stronger. But then, so are the Nobodies’.

Below, there’s the echo of voices. Riku quickly slides back from the edge as the voices get louder and he sees the speakers come into view. Axel, with his bright red hair, and another Nobody that Riku doesn’t know, with a greying ponytail and an eyepatch. 

“Finding Poppet in this mess of tunnels...what a crazy idea.” The Nobody with an eyepatch shakes his head. 

Heat crackles around Axel. “Fine, you can leave. I’ll take care of this!”

The eyepatched Nobody howls out a laugh, slapping Axel on the shoulder. “And miss out on the fun? As if!”

Axel walks on ahead of his partner, dropping to examine...something. “She should be up ahead.”

_ The girl hides there. Will you allow them to destroy your hope?  _ Ansem taunts. 

Up ahead, where her scent of sugary sweetness is strongest. She’s probably hurt. Riku’s already failed to keep them from hurting Sora. 

He won’t let them take Xion. 

Gathering his courage, Darkness hissing about him, Riku  _ leaps.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pulls out the YX timeline chart* Finally...  
> Current update: YX is pre BbS and pre DDD, but post the next arc. Mwahaha.   
> Before anyone can worry, there shall be NO Xehanort Redemption of any kind.


	33. Undreamt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Riku and Xion kick butt, Xigbar has a small victory, and the Hero Dives for the Heart
> 
> (No one ever told that poor replica you shouldn't make deals with the Devil.)

Riku lands easily, impact cushioned by magic. 

Soul Eater’s out. Ready to carry out Riku’s ambush. 

Both of the Nobodies leap back. The eyepatch guy even falls over, against the wall. 

Good. The advantage will be his, for once. 

Until Axel shoots fire  _ right in his face.  _ Riku can’t help but flinch. But the heat, it brushes away somehow, instead of hitting him. 

The fire snaps back, away from Axel. Almost like someone else’s grabbing it. 

“No!” 

That voice... _ Xion.  _ Her gloved hands are held out, fingers twitching and beckoning. Beckoning Axel’s fire away. 

“Xion!” Axel cries out. 

“I won’t let you hurt him!”

For a moment, all Riku can see is  _ Sora.  _ Sora, with jaw clenched and his eyes tight, ready to defend him. 

He blinks the image away as fast as he can manage it. 

Just in time to hear a threatening hum. The Nobody with an eyepatch has a purple arrowgun out and it looks ready to shoot. 

Riku leans back, enough to avoid the shots. 

“What’s it feel like, to not be worthy of a Keyblade?” The Nobody asks, moving and shooting. 

Riku dodges, but inwardly, his heart almost drops at the question. Which is probably the aim of the question.

“Your  _ friend  _ got it and you  _ didn’t _ . You think you can match up to him now? As  _ if! _ ” The taunts continue.

But it’s nothing that Riku hasn’t heard before, hadn’t let drive him into a rage against Sora, had him opening his Heart to Ansem. 

Riku likes to think he’s a  _ little  _ smarter than before. 

“I don’t regret Sora getting the Keyblade,” Riku says with every ounce of heart he can muster. “He can have it forever, if he wants.”

Because he doesn’t. Not anymore. In fact, there’s no one he would rather have it. 

The visible eye (so much like  _ Ansem’s _ ) widens. The Nobody seems..shocked, by what he’s said. For what reason, Riku has no idea.

Riku hits him  _ hard,  _ in that opening _.  _ Floors him. 

“Riku!” Xion’s cry draws him away, towards where she’s struggling against Axel. Her strange Keyblade is out, barely managing to hold Axel’s chakrams away from her body. “Help!”

He rushes over there instantly, joining her in pushing Axel’s chakrams back. The fire is hot, but Xion appears to have that part of the fight under control. 

As long he’s there to defend her back. 

The way she fights with the Keyblade she has...a lot like Sora. Almost  _ exactly  _ like him. 

Riku’s chest burns. Inside, his Darkness struggles to be unleashed. 

“ _ Xion _ ...” Axel’s almost begging, an action that Riku never thought a prideful Nobody like him could ever display. Maybe he’s...changed. “Xion, if you won’t come back with me now...the Organization will destroy you!”

“They already were!” Xion screams back. “I’ll drain you and Roxas dry if I come back!”

At that, Riku can’t help but almost pause in his step. Is that...what a Replica is meant to do? But that can’t be it, or Ruse would have killed him already, by accident. 

What did the Organization  _ do? _

Axel shakes his head, in denial. “That won’t happen. I won’t let it.”

Riku almost wants to laugh. That’s...almost like him dealing with  _ Maleficent _ , to bring Kairi back. Useless and he didn’t get what he wanted, even after selling his Heart for it.

Naive, almost. 

“You can’t stop it. Not like Ruse or the Moogles know how to,” Xion says confidently. 

...what exactly did Ruse and Xion find out together, to get  _ this  _ reaction?

Something important, that’s for sure.

“Xion...”Axel trails off. Which is fine, since that gives Xion an opening to knock him against the wall, next to his dazed partner. 

“Enough. We’ll just get the  _ other  _ Replica,” said partner sneers, dragging Axel onto his feet before they both disappear into a Corridor. 

Riku’s blood runs cold.

“Ruse.” Xion breathes the name. 

Riku finishes the thought. “We need to find her.”

Before the Organization takes her away...

* * *

Did Xehanort put something like a Boss Barrier around this room? Because trying to Corridor out isn’t working either. 

“Argh!” I hit my fist against the door. Pointlessly. 

Anything else I can use in this room? I scan the desk, search through the papers left on top. Just...stuff on getting to the Darkness in the Heart.

Well, that seems to be hinting at  _ something.  _

Get out, get out...guess I  _ have  _ to follow Xehanort’s instructions to get out. Jerk. 

“Unleash my Darkness, hm?” Now, how do I do that? There’s not really any enemies for me to throw myself against, no handy Rage Form to trigger. 

What is Darkness?

Darkness is...hunger. Overwhelming, screaming starvation. 

No matter what I eat, I will never be full. 

(I will always be alone.)

My fingers gently trace the heart pattern on my chest before resting where my heart beats away. 

Every Heart has its Darkness, right? So how do I get to mine? I haven’t used just  _ plain  _ Darkness...since Chain of Memories stuff, it feels like. Other than Corridoring but that doesn’t really count, I feel like...

It doesn’t matter.

I wish Vexen was here to talk to. He’d probably know a secret way out. He worked here, after all. Not that I miss him, in fact...

“I hate you,” I say out loud, experimentally. It tastes bitter. 

(It tastes like a lie.)

I breathe and focus. If I’m alone, if my Darkness is there. Because that is my Darkness, hunger and loneliness. 

Then I reach for it, closing my eyes. Pull, as hard as I can. Focus. 

(Something reaches back.)

When I open them, it’s to darkness. I’m in casual, not my Dark Suit, and somewhere the exact opposite of the well-lit office I just closed my eyes in. 

I walk in the dark of...a cave. A cave not unlike the Cavern of Remembrance, full of purple crystalline stone. Yet enclosed in a way the Cavern isn’t, the ceiling a mere foot above my head. What little light there is produces only the barest of shimmering reflections, mere shadows moving across both whole and cracked rock surfaces. Twisting tunnels that lead forever deeper into the earth. 

All around me roars the sound of rushing water. The call of every river I’ve stood at the edge of, the churning of a thousand rapids. 

A river, for some reason, makes the heart in my chest pick up at the thought of ever seeing. Do I want to see it? No. 

Is this my...Heart?

It’s a dark place, if so. Much darker than I would have pictured it to be. Nothing like the Destiny Islands beach of Sora’s heart in...one of the games. Can’t recall which one right now. Shouldn’t the world of my Heart be something of my memory, not this...cold place I’ve never been to before?

Sand, rock dust, whatever, crunches under my feet as I keep moving. Keep going downward. Something pulls me that way, an undeniable thread pulsing in my chest. 

At the bottom is what I seek. I know this in the same fashion one knows the sun rises, that lungs know to take in air and exhale it.

Thrumming in my blood. 

The bottom, when I get there, opens up. A wider cavern, paradoxically lighter than the tunnels closer to the surface. 

(Is there a surface, if this is my Heart?)

The crystals almost glow in the reflection of this unknown light, dark purple and even darker blue. Textures vary from frost clinging to a branch, or facets of a well-cut gemstone. 

I step in, and there are a million reflections. Of me, of the body I’ve taken for my own, repeated again and again and again. 

All are me, but not. 

My bare, scarred fingers reach out to gently rest against the closest purple stalagmite. Cool to touch. There are hairline cracks in it, my fingers rubbing against them. Cracks in  _ everything  _ down here, now that I’m paying attention, almost like the room is made of ice ready to shatter should I breathe too hard. Delicate.

I really hope that isn’t the case. 

I breathe out heavily and get a visible breath for my trouble. Foggy cold breath. 

Cracking sounds, like ice breaking. I freeze in place, don’t move an inch.

“Beans.”

Around me, the crystals  _ explode.  _ I barely manage to wrap my head in my arms, curl up, under this sudden onslaught.

Thankfully, nothing that hits me hurts. Just...shards of crystal everywhere. 

In the center, there’s a solid shadow. My shadow, with...teal eyes. Eyes like Riku’s, eyes that I  _ should have had _ , being the Riku Replica. 

My own eyes narrow as I slowly rise to my feet. 

The shadow points at me. Echoing. 

_ “There can only be one.” _

Reflections, dancing across what’s left of the columns surrounding the two of us. 

Me, with my scarred up face and indigo eyes, still very clearly Riku-related. A...woman, with curls and glasses. A woman whose face I cannot see, but feels familiar. A woman that is definitely not from Kingdom Hearts in any shape or form. 

(She reminds me of Ema.)

_ “Choose who remains,”  _ the shadow insists. 

Shards of broken, shimmering purple crystal. Scattered about the ground of the cave.

A thousand different reflections of the people standing in it. Me and him. Melting ice. 

Crunching underfoot as I step towards him. 

Blue eyes, teal eyes. Does it matter?

“Me or her, huh? Well, that’s not really a choice at all, isn’t it? Only one of us was supposed to exist in the first place.”

I smile. Cold and cruel. 

“Isn’t that  _ right? _ ”

The shadow, of course, gives no answer. Only attacks. Slices out with a familiar blade. That a shield has replaced, in my case.

I make a mirroring movement with my own weapon. Arrogant Abstract.

(Frozen Pride...can I still use it? ...I’ll try another day.)

We fight and it’s almost like a dance, back and forth. Push and pull, a whirlpool twisting in on itself. Whatever move I make, the shadow does also. 

Yet if I don’t move at all, the shadow still presses forward with its teal eyes bright. 

But flesh tires, where Darkness does not. The end comes when I trip. Trip and fall back, to get a blade shooting towards my face. Arrogant Abstract clatters to the ground.

I’ve lost and it’s all I can do, to not weep. 

(What happens, if you lose to your Darkness?)

But instead of killing me, the shadow  _ explodes.  _ I shield my face. 

“Are you okay?”

A gloved hand sticks itself into my line of sight. A hand covered in the Darkness of a Dark Suit. I stare at it. 

“No, it couldn’t be...”

( So, yeah. I’ll do my best, Riku Replica, and not get myself killed like you did at the end of Chain of Memories.)

Memories, from the very start of this mess. Of me. A promise I made. 

I look up, and it’s a face and form that mirror my own. Without the nasty scars, of course. It’s Riku Replica. 

I can’t really even bring myself to be shocked. Where else would he be, if not gone entirely?

The Riku Replica...he reaches out. Slowly, carefully, stretching out his hand towards me. 

Oh,  _ oh.  _ I can’t help but stare at him, a tightness in my throat. 

Xion gets a happy ending. A reunion, with her friends, her loved ones. 

The other replica...was never that lucky. 

What kind of connection was it, between a replica and their reflection? A replica and the girl that gave them memories, so they thought themselves real?

A sacrifice. 

Passing on. 

“I’m sorry.” My apology is weak. Nothing, really, in the face of what happened. He doesn’t even own this body, anymore. Other than as me, a weaker copy. 

What can an apology do in the face of that?

The response...those teal eyes widen. 

“You don’t remember, do you?”

My face creeps into a frown. 

“Remember what?”

“This.” Fingers reach out, brushing my forehead. 

And at last, I  _ know.  _

* * *

“No, the world already has you.”

A shake of a silver head. 

“There’s someone else who needs the replica more. You know who I mean.”

A gleam of golden light, one last smile. 

Gone. 

Gone to where sky and sea reflect each other, until they are nearly the same. 

Riku (he has no other name, knows no other name, so the Replica must share with the first) walks across mirrored waters towards a seemingly endless horizon. 

Under his arm, he carries the weight of his past, in the form of a body. His body. It’s too heavy and too light at the same time. A warm pressure he can barely hope to bear. 

Somehow he knows, should he keep walking, he’ll find an adventure of his own beyond anything he or his original could possibly imagine. 

A story, that the living will never know, for once they do, they are no longer living. 

His past self will disappear, of course. Should he continue. But his past self will disappear whether he goes on or not. 

Riku stands there, water lapping at his ankles. Taking in everything he can, of the moment. 

(Before he moves on.)

At least, that’s the plan before the sound of splashing reaches his ears. From off to the side. He glances over and...

What is  _ that? _

Someone, made of the same water surrounding him, struggles to pull themselves free of the water they’re still connected to. Slipping back each try, and with each slip...it looks like they might dissolve entirely soon. Back to the sea. 

His feet carry over to the scene. 

It’s almost like watching the original Riku slip into the Realm of Darkness all over again. Or the woman named Aqua thrown into the deep Darkness. 

Awful. His heart hurts. 

But just maybe, just maybe, he can manage to help one last person before moving on. 

Walking into the viewpoint of the watery person, Riku offers his free hand. 

Without hesitation, the figure takes it. And Riku pulls them free. 

Once they’re standing, the water slides away and under it...there’s a woman. Or a person shaped like a woman, Riku thinks. A shadowy smoke thing, with ember-eyes watching him. Tall. Much taller than him. 

“Thank you. You...saved me,” a woman’s voice escapes a slit of a mouth. 

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re..Riku Replica?”

He stiffens. “How do you know that?”

“I...I don’t, from before. I think. Does it matter?” Shadow arms wrap themselves around a smoky midsection. “You helped me. Can I help you?”

“How could you help me?” Riku just pulled her out of the water, after all. 

“I can...make a deal. What you want? I can try to see if I can do something about it.”

Riku doesn’t really believe her. But...does it hurt to share? Not when he’s already dead, about to move on and leave the past behind. 

Even with the body he’s given up, gifted away, there’s still so much that can go wrong. And the past...Riku will never forgive himself for what happened to Naminé. 

In the face of that, there’s only one wish that he wants fulfilled, isn’t there?

“I want to protect Naminé.”

The woman nods. “I...I can help with that. But...I need a way back to the world, to do that much.”

A way back...Riku can’t go back, he gave up his body. But...he glances down, at the body of his past self. If this woman speaks true...

“Can you go in this?” Riku hefts his body up.

Red eyes widen. “What? But that’s...that’s you from the past, isn’t it?”

Riku nods. 

“If I take it...it’ll be  _ me,  _ not  _ you,”  _ she stresses, waving her hands about. 

What good did his past self do? Almost nothing, almost killed Sora and the first Riku and hurt Naminé. 

It’s better, if someone else goes instead.

“Yes, that’s what I want.”

“Well, if you’re  _ sure... _ ”

Her eyes glow brighter. Around them, the water seems to drain, Riku feels the weight of his past vanish. He blinks, just the barest of seconds. But it’s enough to strip away the world of sea and sky, to replace it with a place entirely new. 

A round circle of floor. Tiled with black and white stone, almost like the marble of Castle Oblivion. The black tiles intertwine with each other on a white background, and vice versa, looking like...chains. Loops and loops of chains. Spiraling their way to the center, to a heart-like symbol divided in half. Carved out white on black one side, and black on white on the other. 

“That’s the Dream Eater symbol.” Riku looks up at the woman sitting at a table. A glass table resting at the edge of the “Dream Eater” symbol. 

The woman from before, still shadowy, still red-eyed. She shrugs in response. Now full of confidence, unlike in the sky-sea world. “Just thought you’d like to know what you’re getting into.”

“That doesn’t explain anything to me,” Riku points out, “Since I don’t know what that is.”

The woman taps her chin. “Ah, true. A Dream Eater...is born of a strong Darkness, from Dreams. Created to protect an individual from Nightmares. Which would be me protecting Naminé, in this case.”

“You were someone else before a Dream Eater.” This, Riku knows, if her definition of Dream Eater is correct. Since she existed before she said she would protect, existed as a watery ghost that he helped up onto her feet. 

“Ah...” Red eyes curl over into curving frowns. “Those memories...a lot of them were taken away, to become what I am now. I don’t even have a name...”

Like him. “Ah,” Riku breathes. “I see.”

“You do, don’t you? Yes, I...know that. Know that much.”

The frown turns over, forced into an unnatural grin as she claps her hands together. The gesture is entirely silent, a movement Riku wouldn’t have caught if he hadn’t been watching. 

It’s watching Naminé steel herself, to smile gently in his direction, even after being told she’s worth nothing...he swallows. 

This woman...can help Naminé, in ways he couldn’t, if she’s like Naminé. 

“Enough of that! Time to pick what kind of Dream Eater I’ll be.” The woman waves a hand towards the table. 

On the glass table...

Four bowls. Each one is full of...a different kind of candy. A bunch of round chocolates, pokey star candies, cookies shaped like shields, and even an ice cream cone laying on its side in one. 

The woman picks up a cookie. “Since I’m gonna be protecting someone...” A smile as she slides the cookie into her mouth and bites down. Chews. “Mshild cookie it is!”

Before Riku’s eyes, red eyes darken into a deep deep blue. Darker and darker with each bite of the cookie she takes. Until the treat is entirely gone. 

The bowls disappear and in their place...

A purple orb, with spines and orange star patterns. “What is this?”

The woman’s fingers glow, almost burn as she picks the orb up. Yet she seems unaffected.

“This? This is your Wild Fantasy, your Dream.” Another smile, as she holds the “Wild Fantasy” out to him. “For what is more Wild than wanting to change the future, Fate itself?”

Riku accepts the “Fantasy,” cradling it to his chest. It’s...warm. Crackling a bit, sparking up like a wildfire at times, but still warm. “What do I do with it?”

“Swallow it...” Blue eyes are steady, as they look towards him. “If you agree.”

“So...your past for my future. Are we in agreement?”

Riku reaches out. Wraps his fingers around a thin, shadow hand. “Yes.” A swallow, a breath, maybe they’re one and the same. 

The orb goes down and burns like  _ fire.  _ Eating him alive,  _ making  _ him alive, the room spinning...future becoming past. 

Pink goo around him, the pink goo he woke up in the first time. But this time,  _ she  _ will wake up instead. He will sleep, maybe even disappear entirely. 

(It’s alright, in the end. He  _ was  _ going to die, after all.)

If this woman will be “him,” but also not...then...it’s a mirage. A ruse. A trick to be played, on the enemies of the past. Of the future that was. 

_ Good luck, with the ruse. _

* * *

Who knew that the other Replica would be able to get out of his trap like that?

At least there’s a decent blood trail, sticky green leading the way. 

“Xigbar, the mission’s over now. You got what we do after that memorized, right?” 

What a kidder. Axel’s never been very good at failing. While Xigbar...well, he’s used to it. The small failures, at least.

Main plan’s still trucking strong. And will remain so, no matter what anyone else does. Can’t stop Fate, after all. 

With that in mind, Xigbar can deal with the smarting humiliation of being taken out by a Ventus-clone and a kid who  _ gave up his Keyblade.  _ A Save Point can wash out the more physical pain, at least. Revert him back to pre-fight state. 

“...who did you fight?” 

Xigbar smirks. “You’ll see soon enough, Flamesilocks.”

The trail eventually stops at a door. A door to a room Xigbar knows  _ too  _ well. “Heh, here, kid, really?”

It easily slides open. Well, more like  _ falls  _ open, hinges almost completely destroyed.

“What that-?”

Dark streaks and more green blood all over the floor and walls and desk. Like the kid went and imploded. Without actually imploding, since the body’s still here.

Xigbar squats to check. Just in case. 

Very still. But still breathing. 

Good. Now this mission won’t be an  _ entire  _ wash. 

Next to Xigbar, Axel stiffens. “They  _ survived?!”  _ He demands. 

“What, you set them on fire or something?” That  _ would  _ explain the Dark burn scars...

“Yes.” Curt. Short. Not like the Nobody at all. Aw, does he  _ feel  _ bad? 

Hm. Sturdy. Just like he told the Replica in the first place. Very sturdy, unlike most of Vexen’s work. 

Xigbar looks up. 

On the wall, with that dumb potrait...Xigbar can’t help himself, at the sight he sees. He laughs. 

“Ha, looks like a kid poked a hole in Xehanort’s face!”

Punched a hole, more accurately. With the mini explosion. But that...that means this is going to be  _ fun.  _

He slings the body over his shoulder. 

“Time to get going.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm, what kind of Dream Eater has red eyes again...? And I'm sure the symbolism of being nearly defeated by your own shadow won't come up at all...


	34. Unintended

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Axel takes a good long look at himself, Roxas breaks ties, and our Hero has several intense conversations. With herself and others. 
> 
> Actions have Consequences and Xemnas is ready to cash in.

It’s cold, the coldest I’ve ever been in my new body when I open my eyes. I’m upright, leaning against some wall. Which is kinda creepy, thinking about it. So I won’t. 

The ceiling is white, staring up at it. Just as white as Castle Oblivion’s.

But this isn’t Castle Oblivion, isn’t it? Never so cold there. No, this is...

“Please don’t make me think it.”

Grr. 

The Castle That Never Was. The heart of Organization XIII territory. 

Xigbar must have found me again somehow, even locked away by the baby version of his “boss.” Hauled me here. For what? 

My hand reaches up to scratch at my cheek. Or tries to. It’s...stuck. 

I look down at my lap. 

Oh, there are my hands. Chained together, almost wrapped up in black and white thorny magic. The same sort of stuff that Xemnas always used in the games. Guess he used it on me. A magical chain that’s keeping me hooked up to this weird table I’m on. Not letting me summon my shields or anything else less harmful. Like granola bars. 

Empty white room with a single table against the wall. With me on it. 

I should probably be panicking more about that. About all of this.

My hands flex. 

I should try to break that chain, try to escape. Get out of this place. 

But my brain feels kind of numb, after...the Dive. The memory shared. Well, numb to escape ideas. Hard to plan a way out of my newest mess, when all I want to think about is...

“I’m a Dream Eater,” the whisper is cold on my lips. A Dream Eater that swore an oath, to a Replica, to take that Replica’s place. To protect Naminé. 

(A buzz, in my core, at the thought.)

What was the past me  _ thinking?  _ I have Riku Replica’s side, but no idea what thoughts had floated behind those pupil-less red eyes.  _ Monster  _ eyes. 

I hadn’t even looked human. 

How did I get there, drowning in the Final World? Dying in a place where only the dead linger? 

The holes in my memory, once easily glazed over,  _ ignored,  _ now itch like cracked scabs. Begging me to itch them off, tear myself open. 

“First things first,” I state out loud, curling my legs underneath me. Under my itchy-as-always skirt. The manacles allow me to do that much, as long as I don’t move off the...bed? Table? Whatever this flat white surface is. 

Let’s make a list. And assume that I’m remembering what I do correctly, no need to go down the rabbit hole of “is this real or not?”

“I had a sister. Ema.” Curls, blue eyes, trusting me...

“I was nineteen.” Just turned, going into college that year...

“I did...those games.” Not stupid enough to say the words “Kingdom Hearts” out loud, that would be really bad if anyone heard me. “Among others.” So many stories, that I can’t hope to name. 

There are other things, but the more personal details? My past name, what I looked like, if I had any friends, pets, other family members...gone. Completely gone. 

I don’t know enough to even know what I’m missing. Know what I don’t know. 

The scary part is how  _ easily  _ my brain glosses over those holes. I should have worried about my past name, about losing Ema more than I have, but I simply...didn’t. Still don’t, for some reasoning. The missing worry is like my tongue feeling along where the wisdom teeth grow in. Nothing to think about until you look for it, or the growing pains kick in. And there is no pain. 

Yet for some reason, the memories of this...story, this timeline I’ve found myself in, are the clearest. 

“You would think it would be the other way around...” I muse, tapping my fingers against my seating. Which made for an interesting question:  _ why  _ were my memories of Kingdom Hearts so focused, so clear? My past self clearly recalled Riku Replica and his past, even before our deal was struck. 

Frankly speaking, out of everything I would ever expect to keep after serious amnesia, a Square Enix-Disney mashup series was the  _ last.  _

“What happened to me?”

I glance down at my weird nothing-chains. “Well, besides the obvious.”

Sounds, from the direction of the door. I stiffen as the knob turns. Someone letting themselves inside. Now, I’ve got seven possibilities to pick from, I think? Some more likely than others. 

I wait, eyes stuck to the door as it pushes inwards. There’s nothing else I can do. If the person gets close enough,  _ maybe  _ I can go for the eyes. With my teeth? Spitting is a possibility. 

Other than that...stuck.  _ Trapped.  _

The “bed’s” shaking. No, wait. That’s me. 

I hold my breath as the door finally opens all the way. 

* * *

Axel comes into the cell first. His first thought?

How  _ small  _ the Replica looks, sitting there. Skin and bones, practically. 

They had seemed larger than life while laughing and chattering away at him. Before. 

Even Riku hadn’t looked so tiny, when Axel encountered him at Castle Oblivion. And the Replica is supposed to  _ be  _ him, almost. 

_ Like how Xion’s supposed to be Sora, hm,  _ his thoughts say sardonically. 

Deep blue eyes stare at him, unblinking. 

His keen eye catches...trembling. Throughout the entire body, but most noticeable in the tense shoulders. 

But what Axel  _ really  _ can’t look away from, are the  _ scars.  _

Clearly burn scars, shriveled and crumpled up flesh. Instead of being a reddish color, they’re a deep purple, almost black in some sections. 

The scars have swallowed up almost the entire right side of that face, crawling down the neck the same side. 

The shape of Ruse’s face isn’t the same as it once was. Not a mirror image of Riku’s. 

Severe.  _ Incredibly  _ severe. There wasn’t even anything of  _ Vexen  _ left. No one should have survived that. 

“I know you.”

Sometime, in the middle of Axel’s staring, Roxas had stepped out from behind him and started  _ talking. _

Know them? “Roxas, how’d that happen?”

Roxas looks at him, almost...guilty. “On the rooftops, of Twilight Town. You had something wrapped around your head then.” The later statement he directs to the Replica. 

The Replica flinches, trying to lift their hands up to their currently uncovered head. Trying and failing. “Oh no...did that jerk take it?”

Really, that’s pretty broad. But Axel thinks he knows who she's referring to and it’s not a good idea to ask him about a head cloth.

He shrugs. “Sorry, but I think it’s gone forever.”

The Replica freezes. Complete and total shutdown. Uh oh. “What’s your name?”

“Their name’s Ruse,” Roxas supplies, when the Replica gives no answer. 

Ruse? ...Well, it’s not the  _ worst  _ name Axel’s ever heard of. Probably came up with worse as a kid. Plus, it answers the question of who the “Ruse” Xion had mentioned is. 

...Roxas mentioned a person named Ruse once, didn’t he? And Axel didn’t do anything because he didn’t  _ know _ . 

_ Moron.  _

Now, Axel’s got a few questions himself for the Replica. Mostly on the stuff Xion said about “sucking the life out of him and Roxas.” None of the notes he found on the Replica Project were really clear on what that meant.

Since Xion claimed that Ruse and the Moogles knew...well, possible answers. But he’s not a  _ total  _ moron. Roxas can take the lead on this, lessen the fear that’s clearly a response to Axel. Possibly avoid freeze-ups like this one. 

(Not that he can blame them...)

Roxas steps closer to the Replica, to  _ Ruse,  _ who remains completely still. As Roxas gets closer, something screaming inside Axel gets louder. Don’t let him near it, don’t let him-

No.

Axel breathes. No. Roxas can talk to who he wants, with or without him. Just like how Xion made her choice. Axel can’t control either of them, and he doesn’t  _ want  _ to. 

“What do you want?” Ruse barely manages to breath out, from a tight jaw. 

“How are you like Xion?”

Ruse blinks. Axel does too. What?

“Why would she leave with you?” Roxas clarifies, “You’re not her friend.”

The Replica shrinks back, fingers tangled in each other’s grasp. “...I thought we were. But I was just trying to help her. And this place...”

“It won’t,” Axel finishes for them. He  _ knows  _ this, though he’s tried a very long time to hide the truth from himself. But getting sick, almost  _ dying  _ from getting sick...that reveals a lot about reality. 

The Organization wouldn’t, and couldn’t, help him when getting sick. Axel’s not  _ stupid,  _ but before he...wouldn’t care either. If anyone got sick. 

Before Roxas, before Xion. Now, it’s different. Now, his chest is always burning and he can’t figure out why. 

The Replica meeps and turns their face head from him. Attempting to bury their face in the skin-tight material covering their shoulder. 

Axel wants to reach out but... but...

All he can think of, suddenly, is a girl trapped in a cage. That he and Isa once promised to find, who...was so very quiet too. Like this. 

There are words that he  _ should  _ say, but he doesn’t know what they are. Could any words fix this? His words couldn’t bring Xion back, after all. Doomed her to be destroyed by the Organization. 

“Roxas, let’s get out of here.” Axel turns quickly. So he doesn’t have to see the Replica’s face, but he hears their exhale of breath. Relief, he labels it, without really knowing the reason why. 

“But-”

“You know we’re not supposed to be here for long,” Axel reminds him. “We’ll come back later, got it memorized?”

Roxas nods. “Okay. Good-bye, Ruse.”

There’s a burning in his chest, one unlike Axel’s ever known before. It’s not his fire, nothing like his fire.

Something else entirely.

(What have I done?)

* * *

Roxas  _ knows  _ that they’re keeping Ruse here for bait. That’s what they’ve said at the meeting, at least. 

To draw the imposter out, to bring Xion back. 

But...

That doesn’t seem right, for some reason. 

Won’t Xion come back, if they just wait a little longer? Like with Kingdom Hearts, getting their Hearts back, everyone said you had to be patient and wait for that. 

Axel  _ did  _ say Xion told him she won’t. But that, Roxas considers, is a better reason for Roxas to go ask her why not himself.  _ He  _ hasn’t talked to her yet, after all. 

And there’s even someone who could take him straight to her, if he asked. The same person they’re using for bait. 

Roxas walks down the many halls, towards the room. Decided. 

The door opens easily at his touch. There’s no reason it wouldn’t. 

Dark blue eyes blink open, almost glowing in the room’s lowlight. “Can I help you?”

Ruse’s sitting in the same position as before, legs tucked under the rest of their body. Watching him. 

Roxas breathes out. In again. “Can you take me to Xion?”

Already narrow eyes squint even further. “I’m not doing that for the Organization.”

Roxas shakes his head. “No, just me. I won’t tell, I just...”

Want to see her again. That’s all. 

“Why?”

His Keyblade comes out. Ruse flinches at the sight, but Roxas keeps his weapon lowered, as he looks it over. The same kind of Keyblade that Xion uses herself. 

“We made a promise, to go to the beach together,” Roxas says simply. That’s all there is to it. They’re friends and he’s going to keep that promise. No matter what. 

With those words, his Keyblade  _ changes.  _ Becomes longer, thinner. Silver and gold, patterned with star shapes. Shaped out of Light, almost. 

A sharp inhale. Then, a breath of a name. “Oathkeeper...”

_ Oathkeeper.  _ The Keyblade itself almost seems to sing its new name to him. But how does Ruse know it?

More importantly, will Ruse help him find Xion?

“Can you take me to Xion?” he repeats. 

Ruse holds up their chained hands. “Get me out and I will.”

The Nobody magic easily breaks once he hits it with Oathkeeper. Freeing Ruse. Who immediately jumps to their feet. 

“C’mon, let’s get out of here before someone else shows up!”

“We can’t go to the Gray Room,” Roxas decides out loud. He looks at Ruse. “Follow me.”

Ruse shrugs. Her face moves into what’s called a smile. “Got it.”

He can’t help but “smile” back before turning to open a Corridor. 

One that leads to the city below the Castle. 

On the other side of the Corridor...

In the lower city, it’s raining. It doesn’t rain often, in the World That Never Was, but when it does, it comes down  _ hard.  _ But never so hard that one can’t see the glow of Kingdom Hearts far above. 

Roxas steps through the puddles. Splish splash. Ruse follows close after. 

“Man, kinda chilly out here.” Ruse’s body shakes. “And wet. Burr.”

Roxas pauses. “Are you okay?”

“Wait a sec, not all of us got coats for uniforms here.” Ruse pulls out what looks like a Black Coat, but smaller. Much smaller. With pink letters on the front that say  _ i eat monsters.  _

“Do you?”

Ruse looks up, after putting the small coat on and its hood up. “Do I what now?”

“Eat monsters,” Roxas clarifies. 

Ruse laughs. It’s a loud sound, even in the pounding of the rain. “Nah, that’s just what the jacket says. I got it from a friend.”

Seems strange, to wear things that say untrue words. But if it’s a gift from a friend, Roxas supposes Ruse can’t throw it away for lying. 

Up ahead, the puddles shimmer with strange blue lights. Pulling themselves out of the ground, forming into Heartless.  _ Hordes  _ of them. 

“Neoshadows!” Roxas calls out, Keyblade out. 

“Yep, got it, no good, hate these things,” is the response he gets back. Ruse thankfully summons out a weapon of their own. A black and white shield. Roxas’s shoulders relax. Slightly. 

Good. He won’t have to outright defend them the entire time. 

“Wait, this is new? Huh. New shield.”

Ruse sure talks a lot. 

A pair of Neoshadows suddenly decide to leap at his head, so Roxas is too distracted to pay attention to what else Ruse is doing at that time. 

Several more go for him from behind and suddenly Roxas is aware just how surrounded he is. He doesn’t close his eyes because that’s a bad thing to do in a fight, but he wants to. 

He can’t dodge in time. 

But suddenly that black and white shield is there. Suddenly there are Ruse’s eyes looking into his own. Like Xion’s, if Xion’s eyes were less blue and more purple. 

“How ‘bout I take the hits and you dish them out? Sounds good?”

Roxas can only nod. Words aren’t coming, as his body shakes and shakes. He tightens his fingers around Oathbringer’s hilt, ready to continue swinging. 

“Hey, you okay?” 

His throat works. Still can’t say anything. He nods. 

Ruse looks doubtful. Still moving her shield around to cover Roxas. “Alright then.”

They fight some more, Ruse getting hit over and over again, while Roxas takes out sweeps of Neoshadows. 

Countless Neoshadows. There are always more. They keep coming. 

“This...isn’t...working,” Ruse pants. 

That’s pretty clear. 

Until the Neoshadows, out of nowhere, just...stop coming. Disappearing into the night, staring up at a building. 

“Huh.” Ruse twists to stare in the same direction. Roxas follows their gaze, to see...someone in a coat. 

Uh oh. But instead of running, of being afraid, Ruse almost seems to...perk up. “Ah, I think I know who  _ that  _ is. And I need answers!”

“But we need to get out of here, didn’t you say that?” Roxas says, almost helplessly. 

“Go on.” Ruse shoves his shoulder slightly. “Go to Castle Oblivion. I’ll catch up, gotta talk to that guy first.” They point upwards, at the person in the Organization coat that seems to be staring down at them. 

Roxas considers, shifting from foot to foot. The Heartless are no longer attacking, but...

“They might attack you.”

Ruse shakes their head. “Nah, I know him. I’m pretty sure he won’t.”

“...okay. Just...I want to leave soon.”

Ruse smiles. There’s something soft about it. “Of course.”

Then they jump their way up the building, window frame to window frame. 

Roxas kicks at the nearest puddle and waits. 

They need to hurry. 

* * *

“Aha!” I point all dramatic-like at the cloaked figure sitting on the building’s edge. “I knew you would be here!”

The figure jerks. “ _ Ruse?”  _

Huh? I frown, moving closer and closer until I’m right next to the “mysterious” figure. “Yeah, it’s me. We just met? In Hollow Bastion?”

“...so that is what lies ahead.” He lowers his hood, revealing his silver hair, his golden eyes. I should be more concerned, I think, considering our last meeting. But Xehanort also made it kinda clear he can’t kill me (yet) so I think I’m okay. 

As I sit down, he rises up. Going to stand behind me instead. 

“Why are you here?” I ask. “Why pick here?”

“It is Fated,” is the cryptic and kinda annoying answer. 

I puff out my cheeks. “Dumb.” And keep talking, before Xehanort can take offense to that. 

Man, it’s hard to believe I’m talking to this villain  _ peacefully.  _

(So, here’s the scene. Here’s what’s happening.)

A dark city, made of glass and steel. A tall building, at its center, with screens on its top and yellow door with a blue flashing star pattern right above it at the base. The buildings that make it up are all completely empty. Shadows, almost. 

Dark like sleep. Dark like a dream. 

A world that never should have been. 

It’s raining. Raining and raining over streets empty of anything but old ghosts. Creatures that have no right existing, things that should be long dead yet survive off of pure willpower. And shadows. Seething shadows with gold eyes, hungrily gazing up at the just as gold heart-shaped moon up above. 

No one lives here. No one  _ should  _ live here. 

Water falls from its sky on two figures on the edge of the tallest skyscraper. They’re both hooded, both hiding their faces. One sits, legs dangling over the roof edge. Kicking their feet back and forth almost thoughtlessly. Their hood comes up from a dark hoodie, one marked with the words  _ i eat monsters _ in hot pink on the front. 

The standing figure wears a long black coat, zipped up and with silver chains hanging down from by the neck. 

They’re both small. Short, though the figure who sits is much shorter than the standing one. 

Young. 

Too young for the heavy burdens weighing on their shoulders. 

“Is it really a choice if your future self already chose for you?” The seated figure asks the standing one. Kicks their booted feet out, over the roof’s lip.

Head tilting up towards the golden heart far above. 

“Is that not fate? What do you think destiny is?” is the other’s answer. Questions, more than answers. Folds their arms over their chest. Waiting. 

A hum, as the sitting figure considers their next words. 

“I think...”

(I mean, that’s how I would describe the entire set-up, if I were some bigwig fantasy writer.)

“I think...” I start, tapping my fingers along the wet stone. “Fate is tricky, you know?” Glance over my shoulder, at the guy one could argue is the biggest puppet of the game. Even if he’s a bad guy. Maybe especially because he’s a bad guy. 

“Have you ever considered just...walking away?” I already know the answer, as I’m asking. Before I asked. 

Sure enough, Xehanort looks at him like I’m stupid. “Would you consider not defending a group of naive apprentices at your back, from some great Nightmare?”

“Of course not!” I say immediately. I’ve got some power now, should use it for good when I’ve got a chance to. Great power with great responsibility and all that, yeah? “So it’s the same, huh? And why that example?”

Xehanort closes his eyes, lifts his face as if basking in Kingdom Hearts’ golden glow. 

“It is your nature as this is mine. You cannot fight it anymore than I am able to.”

I bite my lip. Maybe it’s useless, maybe the end of this road will always end Dark. 

Yet. I’ll try. 

“There’s the nurture part too, you know. Nature doesn’t  _ have  _ to control you, or me. We can pick.”

Xehanort lowers his chin. “Do you really believe that?”

In a world that was literally a story in another life, one written out and scripted, I can’t...I swallow. “I want to.”

“You are...interesting.”

I narrow my eyes at the teenage boy sitting a few feet away from me. “You were about to say something a lot meaner, weren’t you?”

“Of course not. I merely lack the words to describe exactly what you are.” Xehanort waves a gloved hand. “Interesting will have to do.”

“I guess I can live with that.” For right now, anyway. This meeting is a lot less tense than our first, since I have the added benefit of being able to run away if trouble starts up. 

And there’s less blood loss, of course. 

I lean back, kick my feet back and forth. 

The stars are bright. Many worlds, each and every one far beyond my reach. 

Which reminds me. 

“I need to go. Roxas needs my help getting back.”

(Need to get back to Naminé. To Xion. To Riku.)

I stand up, nearly slipping off in the slick rain. Only saved by Xehanort gripping my shoulder. Holding on like he’s afraid that I’ll disappear into nothing. 

Gold eyes look very seriously into mine. 

“My older self’s Nobody...he will oppose you. He already moves to.”

I laugh. “Ha! Didn’t expect any differently, taking Xion and Roxas out of the house...” I eye him warily as a new thought occurs to me. “You won’t fight me about that, will you?”

About taking his vessels. 

Xehanort curls his lips into a petty scowl. “One that is willing,  _ knowing, _ is worth far more than an ignorant fool. Even if the fool has far more power than he should.”

Oookay. I’m just...gonna ignore the implications of that. “Bye!” I get the heck out of dodge, sliding down to Roxas below. Xehanort does nothing and when I turn to look afterwards...he’s gone. Disappeared like the rain that is now just beginning to stop. 

“Hey, ready to go?”

Roxas looks at me, just as serious as the teen I just fled. But far more straightforward. “Let’s see Xion.”

* * *

Xemnas stands in the middle of an empty room. 

A room that should have had a Replica sitting in it, waiting for examination. 

He taps his gloved fingers against the table. There’s only one individual currently in the Organization who could have released it. 

“The Key of Destiny...”

The details do not matter particularly. His Keyblade wielder can be reclaimed, as can everything else in time. 

What is  _ more  _ important is  _ how  _ they were lost in the first place. 

The armor...it is gone. The armor of an old friend, whose name and face he does not know, is gone. Gone, taking the questions he ponders on with it. And Xemnas needs it back. 

There is a rat interfering with the Plan. Interfering with his Kingdom Hearts. Centered in Castle Oblivion. 

_ Sora  _ may wake. And should he...the Plan will  _ definitely _ be interfered with. 

If the Replicas refuse to heel...well, there are other ways to gain strength. Other paths that have yet to be investigated. 

“It is time to burn them out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the link for the shield Ruse was using this chapter:  
> https://beastenraged.tumblr.com/post/626004261962219520/sworn-oath-magic-x-strength-x-the-most


	35. Unfinished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Namine and our Hero talk Girls and Grudges, the Organization screws everything up (as usual) and Xemnas has a strong backhand.

Once Sora is awake and her debt filled, Naminé has decided: she will get stronger so Ruse will stop leaving her behind all the time. More importantly, stop getting into trouble without anyone to get her out of it!

She’s sick to her stomach, at the thought of the Organization having Ruse in their hands. Especially if they’re Nobodies like Marluxia or Larxene, scary and threatening. 

“You are sure that they have her? Absolutely sure?” DiZ presses. 

“There was a lot of blood everywhere...” Xion says quietly. 

“And no body,” Riku finishes. “We ran into two members there. They must have done something.”

Lots of blood. Naminé pales, her skin losing pigment until her soft glow’s nearly the same color as her white blouse. 

“Are you certain she’s still...she’s with them?” DiZ finally settles on. Avoiding the words “dead.” Uselessly. They all know that was what the man was going to say. 

Xion’s face crumples. Riku doesn’t look much better. 

Naminé shakes her head, her hand on her chest. Still feeling that warm pulse, no matter how faint it is. The connection between her and Ruse that grows and shrinks, depending on if they’re both in Castle Oblivion or not. “No. She’s not dead.”

“How do you know that?” Xion asks. She’s almost desperate, in her asking.

“We’re...connected. Like you and Roxas, almost.” But not really, because as far as Naminé knows, Ruse hasn’t been taking Naminé’s memories and Naminé hasn’t been taking any of hers. 

But it’s a connection between Hearts, as well. A Heart she shouldn’t have, but Guide has been very insistent that Naminé is developing. Somehow. 

“If that’s the case...” DiZ’s fingers tap away. “His Majesty did promise he would arrive sometime today. We can request his assistance.”

Riku almost perks up at that. “Mickey will be here?”

“Soon,” DiZ assures him. 

“Is that good?” Xion looks worried. Naminé’s stomach gives an uncomfortable lurch at the sight, for some reason. 

“Definitely,” Riku says confidently. “He’ll help us with Ruse.”

The door to the room bangs open and the subject of their conversation,  _ out of nowhere,  _ walks right in. 

Naminé nearly swallows her own tongue. 

“Heya, I’m  _ baaaccck!”  _ Ruse dramatically throws out her arms. “And I brought company!”

She gestures to the blond boy by her side. 

Xion clears up who it is immediately. “Roxas!”

She rushes up to Sora’s Nobody, who brightens in response. Something in Naminé’s gut sours, but she’s too distracted by Riku’s own reaction to pay it mind. 

“Ruse, are you okay?” His eyes go up and down over her as he steps closer to her. 

Naminé hovers in the background, waiting for her chance. Examining Ruse as well. She doesn’t seem hurt, quite the opposite actually. 

The Replica huffs. “Just fine. Don’t worry about me, ‘kay?”

Flaps a hand in Riku’s face. 

Not even  _ acknowledging  _ she was in the Organization’s hands. Naminé swallows. “Ruse? Are you  _ really  _ okay?”

“Just fine!” She snaps, scars twisting up. “Just...get out of my face.”

Ruse gives Riku a shove, nearly pushing him over entirely. “Go talk to Roxas. He’s great!” 

Behind her back, Riku gives her a  _ look.  _ A “I-don’t-believe-what-you’re-saying” look, but going along with it because...he gives Naminé a nod. 

Naminé feels warmth rush to her chest. He trusts  _ her  _ to handle it. And she will. 

She can. 

“Are you finished?” DiZ cuts in curtly. 

Ruse narrows her eyes. “No.”

“Ruse,” Naminé intervenes, before it can get worse. “Nothing happened, did it?” 

She  _ knows  _ Ruse doesn’t want to talk about it, their connection cold between them. But Ruse  _ needs  _ to, as much as she does about her lost sister, her lost life. 

The future.

Ruse swallows. Draws closer to Naminé. Looks ready to say nothing, but instead...

“Do you...” Ruse’s fingers go up to trace along the scars on her neck. An unconscious gesture that usually happens when she’s deep in thought. “...Miss someone that hurt you before? Who wasn’t as bad as they could’ve been, compared to other people?”

Of the Organization (because it had to be them, who else would Ruse be referring to)...

Naminé fidgets after giving the matter some thought. “Axel wasn’t too bad.” She wants to take the words back as soon as she says them out loud. 

Ruse stiffens but tries to play it off, throwing out her shoulders. “That’s cool of him.”

(And he hurt you. He was nice to me but he still hurt you.) 

Naminé doesn’t know if she can forgive him for that. 

“Really, that’s good,” Ruse continues, “Seems like he’s pretty nice to Xion and Roxas too, a friend.” She leans back on her hands. 

“Maybe I should try to get along with him too.”

Naminé opens her mouth, about to object. But someone else speaks up first. 

“You do not need to do that.” DiZ, of all people, speaks up from behind his screen.

Ruse tilts her head. “What?”

“If someone hurts you, you do not need to be around you,” he clarifies. “You  _ shouldn’t  _ be around them, if they keep hurting you.”

Ruse laughs. Like she can’t believe what he’s saying. “Seriously?  _ You’re  _ telling me this? You’ve got tons of grudges!”

“For good cause,” DiZ practically snarls. Then he stops. Takes a deep breath and speaks some more. This time,  _ almost  _ more calmly. “Or do you not remember that those who hurt you also hurt me?”

Naminé watches with wide eyes. Who knew that DiZ would try so hard? Really, the man wasn’t  _ bad,  _ but usually he didn’t try so hard. Offer so much.

Maybe Ruse going missing had hurt him too. 

Ruse inhales, looking ready to launch into another argument. At that point, it’s time to interfere. 

“Ruse, there’s something I need to ask you.” A question that Naminé  _ does  _ actually want the answer to. If that question gets them away from arguing...that’s even better. 

Ruse gives DiZ’s direction the stink eye before fully turning towards Naminé again. “Whatcha want to know?”

Naminé taps her fingers against her notebook. Against her newest sketch, capturing Xion’s face, her eyes. Free of any magic, simply...existing. 

Since Xion is gone, talking to Roxas, and so is Riku...Naminé’ll ask.

She steels her nerve. Ruse’s eyes are big and curious. 

Then DiZ interrupts once more. 

“The Organization is here. All of them.”

* * *

I don’t remember this being a problem last time, with the Organization. But at this point in canon, Naminé and DiZ had moved the Trinity Trio to Twilight Town, and were still determining if they needed Roxas to wake him up or not. 

A lot has changed and I don’t think I can use the old boundary points of canon. Not after so much has shifted onto different paths. 

“We need to get Sora out of here.” Riku, unsurprisingly, speaks up first. With  _ that  _ idea. Not that I can really disagree, it’d be bad if the Organization got their hands on Sora along with...my eyes flick over to Roxas and Xion. 

Yeah. Those kids too. Really bad. 

“Yeah, but how are we gonna do that? He’s  _ asleep,”  _ I  _ almost  _ argue, arms folded across my chest. Just making a point, that’s all. 

“There are ways around that. All that is required is time,” DiZ announces. “Time to set up the containment pods to be safely transported.”

“How much time?” I ask.

The unhelpful answer? “As much as you can manage.”

Real specific of you. Thanks, DiZ. 

“I’ll help,” Naminé volunteers. “We can get out faster if I do.”

“Of course. Everyone else?”

Roxas and Xion go off, clearly meaning to have another discussion. All right then. Riku goes over to DiZ...which leaves me and Naminé. 

“What were you going to ask?”

Naminé smiles. It’s almost strained. “It doesn’t matter.” Another sacrifice to add to the rest. Why is it always the girls that are expected to bear these burdens?

I look her straight in the eye. I won’t let this happen, let her fade away because she’s made mistakes, because she doesn’t think she’s worth anything. 

Because she is worth something. My heart thrums. Everything. 

“Of course it matters.  _ You  _ matter.” My hands are on her shoulders, about to pull her into a hug. Waiting for the okay, if it comes. 

“I’m listening. What did you want to say?”

Naminé looks away, her eyes glowing much brighter than the rest of her skin. Her face is lit up in pink patches. “It’s...my stomach gets all jumbly around Xion. And, I feel warm all the time. A different kind of warm.”

Oh. I blink there for a moment.  _ Oh.  _ That sounds like...a crush. Naminé’s got a crush on Xion? Well, good for her. That’s almost adorable. 

Nah, it  _ is  _ adorable. 

How’s she going to be your best friend if she’s chasing girls, a nasty voice in my head mutters. I crush it, and choose to smile instead. 

It’s a normal thing, really, to be left behind in favor of romantic or sexual connections. Especially for someone as ace as myself. This is normal.  _ Naminé  _ is normal. 

(I don’t let the smile crack.)

“Naminé,” I start out gently, “I think you might  _ like  _ Xion. Like a  _ romantic  _ like.”

“But...we’re both girls?” Naminé phrases her question uncertainly. “All of the stories that Sora’s heard...girls and boys do that.”

I lean in. “Naminé, some people might not like you liking girls. But that’s okay. And if you decide you like boys instead or boys too...that’s okay too.”

I grin as wide as I can manage. “Hey, maybe you should tell me what’s so great about Xion? Is it the eyes? Her hair?”

Naminé’s eyes well up. Before I can do anything, respond, she throws her arms around me. She’s so very warm, cuddled up against me.

Hugging me with everything she’s got. 

I hug back. 

“Please come back,” she whispers into my ear, breath hot and weighted. 

There’s only one response to that. “I promise.” 

“I...I love you.”

My breath stutters. She can’t mean romantically, right? Nah, she would have mentioned it to me, if she were feeling those same things about me as Xion. No reason not to since Naminé didn’t know what they meant. 

But...

“I love you too.” With all my heart. 

DiZ gives me a nod as I break away from the hug. I scowl back. Shut up, I don’t need your approval!

Now, to the rest...look over at Roxas and Xion. 

“Are you guys okay against the rest of your...” Friends? Are they friends? Not really, if I recall correctly. 

Roxas and Xion exchange looks. “We’ll help.” Speaking as one. Okay, was that meant to be creepy? Do I do that with Riku ever? I hope not. 

Speaking of Riku...no need to ask him. I turn to him and his face is set in stone. Determined and ready. The Organization and us? Just kids, really, but there’s no one else. 

(The Organization didn’t hurt me at all. I’m fine.)

(I have to be fine.)

Against the four of us...yeah. 

No one’s gonna be able to stop us now. 

* * *

The Guide of Departure prepares for an attack. Arming their programs, running basic prediction algorithms. The Enemy has returned. 

Keep them out. 

Yet.

Somehow, they have come inside their walls. 

There  _ shouldn’t  _ be a way inside. Yet, there is. A Card that the Guide of Departure has no way to override, not without shutting down the entire Oblivion Program. An impossibility, without a Master to prompt a restart. 

A Key to Departure. 

The Guide’s veils snap as their heels click across the floor. Scanning the area, the boy that sleeps hidden away. 

Ventus...is safe. Still asleep, still safe near their core. 

But the danger is real. 

“With that card...” The Guide pinches the nearest program between two fingers. A structural diagram. 

“I cannot stop them. I can only delay.”

The Keyblade Master Mickey was supposed to come. 

“Delay until arrival in estimated-” Consult the clock, “Thirty minutes, perhaps.”

Or maybe that was too short for a timed prediction. 

No matter. All they can do is buy what time they can manage. 

The Guide of Departure snaps their fingers. Twists their wrists, and with that twist, the world of the Oblivion Program reshapes. The defenders will be split into different parties, but that is a small price to pay for also splitting the attackers apart as well. 

The Battle Card System is up once more as well. Limiting the power of the enemy. 

“Architecture Alteration complete. Goal: Protect Apprentice Ventus.”

_ No matter the cost.  _

“Let the Game begin once more.”

* * *

Out of  _ nowhere,  _ the world turns around me. A merry-go-around that’s suddenly cranked up to max speed  _ upside down.  _

“Oh man, I think I’m gonna  _ barf!”  _ Turn, keep twisting, until I can get my feet underneath me. 

Or smash my face into the wall. Cool. I can do that too. 

When I stagger to my feet, hand rubbing at my face...I’m alone. No Riku, no Roxas, no Xion. Just me. 

Alone in Castle Oblivion, in the endless white halls. 

“Beans. This can’t be good.”

Man, maybe I  _ should  _ barf...stupid castle. Or maybe, I should get my shield out. 

That’s probably a safer idea, overall. Yeah, I’ll do that. 

But instead of a nice shield to whack people with...a deck of blue cards come to hand. 

Cards again? I frown. “We’re doing memory stuff, huh? Thought that was a bad idea...”

My deck is totally different from last time. No Soul Eaters, which only makes sense since I’m not using that weapon anymore. Nah, that’s Riku’s alone now. 

No, I get different shields. Clusters of them, that are clearly meant to be played together in sets.  _ Sleights,  _ that’s it. Frozen Pride, Arrogant Abstract, my new Sworn Oath...shuffle shuffle. The numbers are higher too.

Guess I’m more powerful than before?

That’s nice to know... “My hard work’s paying off.”

But still,  _ cards?  _ Agh. 

The warmth in my heart is steady. Naminé seems okay, then. I need to get back to her, after all of this. Talk about her crush some more, maybe? 

Now, gotta find everyone else. First step, keep walking on. Try to find a door. Maybe I should try heading back to Naminé, I did track her before...

Maybe that’s a Dream Eater thing. Can Replicas do that?

(Man, I really need to just compare notes with Xion at some point. Since I don’t have a Vexen to ask. Or his science stuff to raid.)

Walking, walking. Until I walk myself into a room where there’s actually someone inside of it. Not a someone I  _ want  _ to see, though, blond but the wrong kind of blond, with gills and scales and looking kind of soggy.

Demyx. Great. 

“You’re here too?” Demyx squawks. And by his side...Luxord. Watching me. 

Luxord  _ and  _ Demyx? Against only me? Guide, what did you do?

“Two on one? No fair!” I whine, as my fingers itch towards my deck. Slowly, slowly. 

“You’re one to talk! I thought you were  _ Mors _ ,” Demyx almost wails, hands on his hips. His gills flap and flap. 

Oh. Right. That. 

The name that I was using (am still using?) in the Underworld. My stage name. A mask, I suppose. But how much of a mask is it, if I didn’t hide what really mattered? Not really.

(Not most of it.)

“I’m still Mors,” I point out, “Not my fault you didn’t know that  _ Mors  _ is a Replica, like Xion.”

“You are much less...nebulous than Xion,” Luxord speaks up for the first time. His keen blue eyes examine me thoroughly. 

I take the chance to do the same to him. Where is  _ his  _ Nobody oddness? Is it hidden under his cloak like Marluxia’s? 

“Are you certain you are the same?”

I laugh. “The same? Of course not! You’re not the same as Demyx, are you?”

Luxord inclines his head. “True enough. Yet there are more similarities between himself and I than there are between you and Xion.”

The cards slide easily into my fingers. “Maybe you’re just not looking at the right places.”

“I look forward to finding them out, if that is the case.” Luxord’s fingers slide up his sleeve. As they do...something ruffles at his neckline. At what I can glimpse under his wide sleeves. Hm?

Grey cards come out, marked with the white Nobody symbol. 

I frown. Those are Luxord’s normal cards, not the cards of Castle Oblivion. “Hey, why do you get to keep those?”

Luxord lifts an elegant eyebrow. Before he can say anything, Demyx turns on him. “Yeah, why do you get those and I lose my sitar?”

“I know how to play the game,” is Luxord’s smooth as ever rejoiner. Smooth guy.  _ Cool  _ guy. 

His fingers go up to his neckline. Scratching along it? Pulling out...no,  _ peeling  _ out feathery scale patches. Patches that grey and spread out into cards. 

What the frick. 

_ Scales  _ almost. Scales that become  _ cards.  _ I change my mind, Luxord is the weirdest Nobody. No one else could possibly come close, even Xigbar’s goat legs. 

Luxord examines his newest card. Shuffles what’s already in hand. “With this hand...Demyx, you play this game.”

“Wait, what?”

With that, the enigmatic Nobody disappears. Leaving me alone with Demyx. Who then sighs dramatically.

Turning to me. 

“A fight? No way I want to do that!”

I shrug. “Then don’t. We don’t have to fight.” I’d rather we didn’t, actually...

Demyx shakes his head. Scales are spreading up his neck now. “No, no, no! You don’t get it! I don’t fight,  _ Saïx  _ will put me six feet under!”

Cards spread out, surrounding him. Sitar pictures with different numbers. The usual, when against a Nobody here. “Let’s get this over with, alright?”

“Fine!” I shake my head. Spread out my own deck. “Let’s do this!”

* * *

It appears the walls and corridors are rotating. Attempting to keep Xemnas from his goal, from where the card Saïx acquired for him leads. 

The Key to Departure is warm, through the glove. 

Departure, why is that so familiar...? That name, that place...he  _ has  _ to know. 

There’s a boy in front of him. Standing in his way, silver hair and teal eyes bright and...Xemnas searches for the emotion. Angry. 

Ah. He knows who this is. 

“So you are Riku.”

“So you’re Ansem’s Nobody,” is the boy’s snide reply. 

“Move aside.”

“You’re not taking one more step.” A sword leveled at Xemnas’ face. 

Xemnas huffs out a breath from his nostrils. Enough of this. He is not here to play games. 

“Enough.”

His hand comes up, shoves the boy in the chest. Across the entirety of the room. 

“Stay out of my way, if you do not wish to become  _ nothing.” _

The boy gets up.  _ Insists  _ on getting up. Xemnas narrows his eyes, at the slow rising of a familiar Darkness. Hm. 

So that is where his Heartless went...into the Heart of this reckless boy. Waiting to claim the boy for himself, should that child overreach. 

More than likely, the way he insists on standing despite Xemnas’ greater power. Standing in his way. 

Xemnas will not kill him, then. Not while he still may be of use. Though the boy currently tests his patience...

A flicker of familiar warm energy as another enters this nest of hallways. Another Organization member. Good. 

Xemnas will leave this upstart to him. 

He names the member in question out loud. “Axel.”

Number VIII trembles. Xemnas ignores his lack of control, moving over to the Nobody. He sweeps an arm out towards the boy. Riku. 

“Take care of... _ this. _ But do not kill him.”

Axel murmurs his acquiescence, moving towards the boy as Xemnas moves away. 

Not  _ that  _ killing should be an issue, considering that the assassin failed to kill the Replica on his last mission. 

It does not matter. As long as Riku stays out of his way, as long as Number VII keeps him out of the way. 

Now, to find that door...

(To find the Chamber of Waking.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.  
> Ruse is aro-ace, confirmed. Now, I intend to stay true to this fic's Gen label so all romantic relationships will only be briefly referred to if referred to at all. Anything stronger or more intense will be put into side-stories as part of this series.  
> There will be continue to be frank discussions about sexuality, though. That much will stay.


	36. Unforgettable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it's not Kingdom Hearts unless there are bunch of speech-filled fights. (Or not-fights?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for general dehumanizing behavior as is typical of Saix in Days-era.  
> Also, next chapter is the last in this arc! Prepare for the end!

Roxas is alone. 

After finding Xion, he’s been separated from her again. Alone in these achingly familiar white hallways. Where everywhere looks the same and it’s  _ terrible.  _

Wander, wander, he needs to find Xion. 

(Again.)

“Well, I did not expect to find  _ you  _ here.”

Roxas flinches. It’s... “Luxord? Why are you here?”

The Nobody stands up, from where he’s been apparently leaning against the wall. “We’re all here because of you and Xion, of course. Why else?”

Roxas swallows, keeping a wary eye out as he slowly circles Luxord. Who doesn’t  _ seem  _ to notice. 

“Surely you didn’t expect that you two could just...walk away. Not with the Keyblade.”

Actually, Roxas hadn’t thought about it. Xiom had, though, said Axel had come for her once already. 

(“Why didn’t you come back then?” he asks, not understanding. 

Her eyes are big as they look at him. “I’ll hurt you both.”

“It doesn’t matter. I can take it.”

At that, she turns and says nothing more.)

“I was going to  _ come back,”  _ Roxas huffs, “I needed to get Xion first.”

Luxord flicks through his cards. The motion comes smoothly, practiced a thousand times, one the Nobody completes without even looking at his hands. 

His eyes reserve themselves for Roxas alone. 

“I see. So the puppet-”

“Don’t call her that!” Roxas’ Keyblade isn’t out. But he has a bunch of cards instead, for some reason. Cards that Luxord seems to know the meaning of, by the way his eyes widen and he almost hastily steps back. 

“So  _ Xion  _ is the only reason you’ve left?” 

“Yes,” Roxas says firmly. Pushes down his doubt, the whisper of  _ what if I want leave for me? Not just Xion.  _

“Hm. I see.” Luxord peels out more cards in his usual way, discarding the old to vanish into nothing. “Now, say, should you find Xion...what if she doesn’t want to come back? She left for a reason, after all.”

Roxas can’t help but look away at that. Luxord...that question has already been answered, even if the Nobody doesn’t know it. 

“If she doesn’t come back...what will you do, Roxas? Will you leave?”

“Does it matter? You need our Keyblades.” The statement comes out more harsh than Roxas meant it, and he wishes he could swallow his words. “There’s no choice.”

Luxord hums. His cards are gone, and only one remains out. 

“It’s what I’ve said before, Roxas. Only a fool bends to the cards. What happens next...that is a  _ choice. _ ” Luxord flicks a card from finger to finger before making it vanish up his sleeve. 

Ice blue eyes watch him. Almost  _ dare  _ him. 

“Now, Roxas, what is  _ yours?” _

What should he choose?

He lowers his head, hands shaking. Body shaking. No. That’s no choice at all.

Roxas knows what he’ll do.

* * *

Xion’s hands are shaking. She keeps dropping the strange blue cards that have come to her call, instead of her Keyblade. 

She never wanted it to come to this. Never wanted to see  _ him  _ again. 

Never ever.

“Well? Are you going to put up a fight or not? Prove that you’re actually  _ worth the effort?” _

Saïx snarls, eyes and scar glowing. His fangs are much larger than Xion recalls them being, almost garbling his words. Almost. 

She can still understand everything clearly enough. 

Understand how he  _ hates  _ her. 

But not why. 

“I haven’t done  _ anything to you!”  _ She screams back, water streaking down her face from her eyes. “ _ Why?” _

More than this, the  _ why  _ is for  _ everything.  _ Why the cruel remarks about how she could never match up, calling her an  _ it,  _ telling her she  _ didn’t  _ belong...never could. 

There’s blood dripping from cuts on her cheek, by a nasty bruise. One of many. 

Green blood.  _ Dark  _ green. A stain on the perfect white floor.

(Just like her.)

“You’re a puppet. Something that should have never been created.” Every word drops like a Heartless’ acidic poison from his lips. 

Stinging and ripping their way through her body.

“Roxas is enough for our needs. We don’t  _ need  _ a flawed creature to gather Hearts.”

Saïx stalks towards her. Clearly meaning her harm. 

“A puppet...could never help anyone.”

But Xion can’t bring herself to move out of the way, to dodge. 

Lets it come. 

Because it’s true, isn’t it?

She  _ can’t  _ help anyone. She’s just hurt Roxas and Axel with everything she’s done. Stay, they’ll die from her eating them alive. Leave, they’ll come after her and the Organization will come after  _ them.  _

Whatever she does...harm and hurt follows her. 

Her friends deserve better than this. Than her. 

A kick to her midsection launches her across the room, into the wall. Xion can’t help but cry out at the impact. 

“Useless,” he snarls. 

The worst insult of all, in the Organization. Because if one’s useless...

“You don’t  _ deserve to live.  _ I will erase the  _ mistake _ of your existence.”

His claymore’s out. Around him, if Xion squints just right, there are those blue cards flickering. Glowing with the same strange light as his eyes. 

He’s going to kill her, Xion knows this the way she knows the weight of her Keyblade.

So why can’t she make herself move?

Frozen here, unable to breath. The weight of her own mistaken existence is heavy on her shoulders. 

Would it be better off if she dies here?

A false copy, a weak puppet. 

(“I’m supposed to be a copy of Sora...” Xion wraps her hands around each other, as she carefully glances at the boy next to her. “Will he...be mad about that?”

Long silver hair flies freely as Riku vigorously shakes his head. “Of course he won’t, he’s Sora. He’d probably...” He taps his fingers against each other. “I think he’ll love to meet you.”

“Are you sure?” Xion asks, almost nervous. Roxas wouldn’t mind, of course. But his Somebody...seems so very strange and no one will let her meet him. Saying that he was sleeping every time she tried.

Did Somebodies need to sleep more than Nobodies or Replicas did?

“Look, you’re not him. You don’t have to be him.” Riku smiles. It’s small but perfectly honest. “I mean, look at  _ Ruse.  _ She’s not like me at all and she’s my Replica, like you’re Sora’s. You’re  _ you,  _ Xion. And that’s good.”

That’s...true. And Riku doesn’t seem to mind it, having someone with his face running around, doing all kinds of things. He’s...friendly to her, though Sora’s his friend. 

Maybe, maybe, this will be alright.)

So what if she’s a copy, a puppet? She’s still  _ Xion.  _ Still herself. 

And she doesn’t want to die here. 

Not when her friends need her. 

(Not when people that could be friends need her.)

Xion gets up. She plays her cards, her Keyblade is out. 

But it’s different. Now. Black with intricate patterns engraved in it, its hilt like bat wings coming together. 

She knows its name like she knows her own. Something fought for, til the bitter end. 

_ Oblivion.  _

It catches the claymore beautifully, with a loud sheen. 

“I  _ won’t let you erase me!” _

Saïx  _ roars  _ and swings again. And again, Xion parries the blow. 

There’s a buzz in her veins, a shiver in her bones, as she faces him. 

Fear, but also something more. 

(She won’t be afraid anymore.)

The cards come, now patterned after Oblivion. She plays them all, breaks through whatever Saïx tries to throw at her. Raging and roaring, a monster. 

A monster and nothing more. 

Xion fights, with all she has. And all she has is not nothing. 

Saïx doesn’t stand a chance, without chains of fear or command pinning her down. 

She’ll live. She’ll get back to Roxas and Axel.

Xion promises, and Oblivion almost seems to pulse in response to her silent oath.

He’s on the ground now. Bleeding black. She could finish this, could kill him.

But...

Xion looks him over. Turns on her heel. 

She won’t. 

It’s not worth her time. 

Besides, he’s no Heartless. 

Saïx...he’s the past now, and she won’t look back. Not for long. Not when there is so much she needs to do, to look forward to. 

What Xion needs, for her friends, is  _ time.  _ Time to figure out what a Dream Eater is, what a Replica is. Then fix it, so she won’t hurt anyone. 

But time...how can she get it, when Roxas, when Axel, they’ll never give up? It’s good, but...she needs them to stop.

Needs them to...she looks at her new Keyblade. Oblivion, to...forget.

Oh. Of  _ course.  _

“I need to find Naminé.”

* * *

The pods holding Sora, Donald, and Goofy are almost ready to be taken away. 

DiZ runs one last system, holding back a sigh of relief as all systems come up clean. No errors now, at this most delicate of times. 

“Naminé, when will they be ready?”

The Nobody places a hand on the nearest pod. The biggest one, with Sora inside. She closes her eyes. “Just a moment.”

Good. 

The man calling himself DiZ turns away. Gathering his composure. 

Naminé...she’s a Nobody, but she’s also a girl. A girl that didn’t know what a crush was, a girl that reads an old book fervently like it holds the answers to everything whenever she’s not drawing, a girl that hugs and weeps and says...

( _ “I love you.” _ )

He had been  _ so sure... _ was he wrong? 

Could a Nobody hold a Heart after all? Could a Nobody...choose to be kind, could  _ love?  _

If that is the case...DiZ’s fingers grasp uselessly at his sides. What did it mean for his former Apprentices? 

They chose to cast him into the Dark. Surely those he loved wouldn’t have done that, only monsters could have.

DiZ breathes. Think about this later, there are tasks to complete. 

“Ah...so this is where the boy at the root of this hides. With the man who betrayed us.”

Naminé gasps. DiZ turns immediately, stepping to stand in front of her.

Dilan...he looks so very different as a Nobody yet the exact same, in the ways that matter. Shiverings of form lash through the air surrounding him, giving the impression of feathers. Of a twisted parody of wings. 

“...So your Fey blood shows only now, traitor.” Now, when his Heart is lost. Is there a link?

“Weak fool!” Dilan’s face twists up in a snarling scowl. But he’s not Dilan, not is he? Not anymore. “You dare to say that to me?” 

“Tell me, Nobody, what is your name?”

“...Don’t you already know? With the help of your  _ imposter _ .” As angry as ever, over the idea of subterfuge. 

Why can’t he stop seeing old ghosts?

“It’s  _ Xaldin  _ now,” the Nobody spits, tendrils thrashing about as he walks towards them. Towards the pods. Towards the girl behind him. 

“You will not touch them,” DiZ commands. 

“You are not my  _ king.  _ Those romantic ideals belong to the trash heap.” Xaldin summons...lances. Arching up through air, ready to fling themselves forward. To attack. 

“Take this!”

“ _ Sleep.”  _ The whisper comes forth loaded with magic. 

Xaldin drops like a puppet whose strings have been cut. His lances vanish completely but the tendrils do not, curling up like the tails of a slumbering cat.

DiZ turns and behind him...Naminé’s hand is stretched out. She looks far paler than usual and breathes heavily. THe obvious source of the Sleep spell. 

Powerful enough to take out a fully-grown man full of rage and Darkness, about to kill them both. For that is what Xaldin is, isn’t he? Even a Nobody, still a...man. 

DiZ has been a fool. 

Once more, it seems he has learned nothing. Making the same mistakes that led to his fall in the first place. Foolish. 

“Are you okay?” Naminé asks, peering up at him anxiously. Though she may be the Nobody of a Princess of Heart, she is clearly her own person. 

“Fine,” he forces out. “Come, let us finish this.”

“Are we...?” Blue eyes slide over to Xaldin, still on the floor. 

They should, shouldn’t they? Yet DiZ somehow finds no stomach for cold-blooded revenge. Not anymore. 

If there is a fight and no choice, yes. But now? DiZ is weak. So very weak. 

“We will leave and he will no longer be our problem.”

Naminé nods. “Okay.” 

Her smile is bright. Small. It is her own. 

DiZ regrets. 

* * *

This kid is the actual Riku. 

Not the Replica. 

But the scene itself is pretty familiar, a familiar face glaring at him, holding up a sword in an attack stance. The mouse is missing, this time, but a lot’s the same. 

Axel did not ask for this to happen to him. He would very much like this to not be happening to him. 

He puts his hands up. See, no weapons. Not gonna summon weapons. ...Did Riku know about his missing Replica? Maybe he should reassure him about that. Lower the chances of a fight, maybe. 

Axel doesn’t really do negotiations. Hopefully this won’t blow up in his face. 

“Look, I’m not here to fight you. Your Replica, he’s fine.”

“Ruse is a  _ girl,”  _ Riku almost snarls. Like Saix-degree of snarl. But more importantly...

“Wait, your Replica’s  _ trans?”  _ That’s...unexpected. But then, Xion’s supposed to be a Replica of Sora, from what he’s read in the notes. Maybe Replicas lean towards being trans naturally? Weird.

Xion as trans...that’s a thought. And also explains, surprisingly, a lot. 

Riku’s face loses some of its hardness. “You know what that is?”

Axel pulls his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I do. And let’s leave it at that, got it memorized?”

He does not need to talk about his life as a Somebody with this kid. He doesn’t even do that with  _ Saix,  _ and Saix was there for most of it. 

“We’re not fighting,” Riku states. Not a question.

“Yep.”

“We’re not  _ going  _ to fight.”

“That was my plan, yeah.” Axel rolls his shoulders. “But we can change that any time.”

He’d rather not. Not fighting is good. He doesn’t...want to set another kid on fire. Especially a kid that looked like the last kid he set on fire.

Axel doesn’t know why he cares. He didn’t, the first time. Not enough to not do it. 

“What are you doing, then?” Riku doesn’t quite lower his sword, but he’s not holding it as high as he used to either. 

Axel thinks about it. Well,  _ Lord  _ Xemnas had pretty much just thrown him in the kid’s direction with a “don’t kill him” attached. But no further instructions.

Which is fine. Axel’s always been good at doing his own thing. 

He scratches at his head again. 

“Delaying you?” he suggests. “Or possibly, saving your life?”

“How are you doing  _ either of those?”  _ Riku hisses, sword going up again. 

...How had Ruse come out so painstakingly chatty, if this is the original deal?

“Look, if you fight him, you’re going to die. That’s just how this works.” The leader of the Organization was too strong, too powerful, to be taken on alone.

There are multiple reasons Axel didn’t cut and run, and that is only one of them, the Superior’s overwhelming power. 

(Roxas and Xion need him.)

(...Saix needed him. Before.)

Taken on alone...his memory flashes back to that strange scene where he and Ruse fought together against a memory-Xemnas. Fought and  _ won.  _

Now that’s something to think about. A possibility. A way out, impossible as it seems. And if he finds Roxas and Xion on top of that...well, two Keyblade wielders are pretty powerful. As much as he hates the idea of getting them involved, it might be the best option. 

Axel grins. It’s a fierce sort of smirk, akin to the one he always gives his enemies as the fight begins. 

He’s even got the real deal right here.

“Let’s talk.”


	37. Unbeliever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our Hero chooses and loses, important facts are forgotten, and a lost boy is found. 
> 
> (What's a God, to an Unbeliever, after all?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for a Pretty Long Chapter, Character Death, Things Going Very Wrong, and a Literal Cliffhanger. (Kind of)

“Look on the bright side. Now Saïx can’t claim you weren’t fighting!” I stretch out my arms, as far as I can. Then lower them to my sides. 

“...”

“Man, you almost had me there with that last move...” I shake my head, hands on my hips. “But I’m better!”

“...”

“...You know what, I’m not actually sure if you can hear me or not.”

Demyx twitches from inside of his new ice block. A nice result of my triple card Frozen Pride sleight. 

Honestly, as much as I hate the cards, it’s probably a good thing that they got brought back. Demyx  _ clearly  _ had no idea what he was doing, dropping sitar cards all over the place, while I had  _ prior  _ experience to go back on. 

Leaving it my win.

Which is good, I don’t think I would make it through a water countdown like in KHII.What a serious pain  _ that  _ was. 

Hm. Should I just...leave him there? He’ll thaw out. Eventually. Probably. 

But...we played music together. Had fun. Maybe I owe him this much. To get him out. 

I walk up to the ice prison, taking special note on how Demyx’s eyes move to focus on me. Tap tap. Right next to his head. 

“You’ve got mud on your face~”

Sturdy stuff, this ice. Surprisingly so. How to break?

First, make a weak spot...I call on my can-opener claws for this one, crunch through the ice. I’m sure Demyx would be flinching right now, if he could.

Weak spot made!

“We will, we will~”

Then...I  _ hit  _ it with my fist. As hard as I can manage. In beat with my words. 

“Rock you! Rock you!”

The ice  _ shatters  _ and leaves a nice squishy body on the floor. Demyx. Still breathing. 

I grin. 

“Get out of here.”

He does. So fast I’m slightly surprised he doesn’t leave a Looney Tunes-type dust pattern behind. 

Man. I kinda hope I’ll see him again. As not enemies. 

(If that will ever happen.)

I sigh. Stretch out my arms. I need to get out of here. I need to...find everyone else in this stupid castle. 

First things first: is Naminé okay?

Check the connection. Naminé’s stable, if a bit stressed. Too busy to talk to me, of course. But she’s alright. 

Riku’s probably okay, he’s stronger than I am. Honestly, I’m more likely to get killed than he is. I’m no Keyblade-using protagonist, after all. Which leaves two options...

I hesitate. My fingers trace along my neck. Go after Xion or Roxas?

...Not that I can’t really find either, I don’t have a strong enough connection. Pick a random direction and hope, I guess?

But if I had to pick...Roxas, I decide. He probably needs more help than Xion right now, having been just tossed into this mess. 

Hm. Wait, I’ve got an idea. 

My knuckles knock against the wall. “Hey, I don’t know if you’re listening, God, but I need a way to Roxas? If you can.”

God. Heh. I gotta meet the guy who came up with that, it’s hilarious. 

In the wall ahead, a new door shivers into existence. Guess they’re listening after all.

“Thanks!” I yell up at the ceiling, jogging down the hallway.

It opens easily, without needing a card for it. Which is great, because I don’t have any location cards or World Cards or whatever they’re called on me. 

Another blank hallway. Man, I  _ almost  _ miss Monstro’s stink, or the calmness of Destiny Islands. Almost. 

Everything looks the same, no memories to cover up the architecture. Fine, except that I don’t have a sense of direction. Making this slightly more difficult than it needs to be. 

At least each hall only leads to a single door, I don’t know what I would do if I had more choices than that. 

Keep going, until I reach Roxas. Yeah, that I can do. 

At least, that’s the plan until I open the door and there’s someone on the other side. Two  _ someones.  _ One with silver hair like my own, face like my own.

The other...red hair.  _ Bright red  _ hair. 

Riku.  _ Axel.  _

I hiss. Launch myself into a flying kick. 

“ _ Axel!” _

Get away, get away, too close to Riku!

Axel’s slitted eyes go crazy as he dives away from me. Allowing me to hit the floor with a heavy thump. “Whoa, whoa! I’m not here to hurt anyone!”

I shake my head. “Like I believe  _ that.” _

“He said he doesn’t want to fight,” Riku interrupts, putting at what looks like an attempt at a calming hand. Not want to fight? What’s Axel up to then? Has “character development” finally kicked in?

“He doesn’t  _ need  _ to fight to suddenly light us up,” I argue.

Riku blinks like he hadn’t thought of that. Which he probably hasn’t. 

I didn’t, until it happened. 

Axel speaks up. Probably figuring he should, before I gut him or something. 

“Look, I’m not going to set anyone on fire today.”

I lift a skeptic eyebrow. “Alright. Soooo...why you talking?” I jerk my head at the two of them. 

Riku lifts an eyebrow of his own. Or both of them. “He wants help fighting X-”

“Don’t say his name right now!” Axel hisses. 

Who are they-?  _ Oh.  _ “You mean Mansex?”

Axel chokes on his own spit. Riku doesn’t look much better, his face spasming. 

“That’s- not- his name!” Axel manages to spit out, in the end. 

I snort. “Of course it isn’t. But you seem awfully careful about avoiding it...”

“I need some plausible deniability, that’s all.”

Okay, this is  _ definitely  _ a You-Know-Who situation here. And frankly speaking, I don’t really care. If Axel wants allies killing Mansex...interesting, but not entirely relevant right now. I want to get back to Naminé, take a nap, before I even  _ think  _ about Xemnas. 

“How ‘bout you finish your plotting and I’ll go lean against the wall over there?”

The wall isn’t comfortable but it’s good enough, as I watch Riku and Axel have a serious discussion. Listen in. Are we even sure he means it? He has been tricky in the past...

There’s no way this will end up in tears, no siree. 

* * *

The benefits of being AI can mostly be found in the ability to complete many tasks at once. Tracking the Organization, finishing the Journal Digitization, tracing the linkage of memory chains so as not to erase the Replica Xion...there are many tasks to complete. 

Including the ongoing game of hiding Apprentice Ventus from the  _ Xehanort.  _

The most recent versions of the digitized Journal and the memory linkages are packaged up, downloaded to the small Program resting in front of them. 

“Updates sent. Share them with your Mistress,” the Guide instructs the Linking Program. Said Program nods its rabbit-like head and fades away. 

Back to Modification Naminé’s Command Board. 

Now, to continue the work of keeping that  _ Xehanort  _ out-

“Huh. You’re not supposed to be this active.”

This man, this Nobody...the Guide does not know who he is. Out of nowhere, trespassing into their private dimensional harddrive. Only one with the mastery of Space could manage such an impossibility. 

That does not stop them from launching their attacks at him, in attempts to kill him instantly. Chains of kill-codes, all at once. 

In line with codes the Guide does not even know lay intertwined within. 

The Guide does not know why but this man  _ must die.  _

The Nobody responds to this attempted murder in a remarkably calm fashion. 

“Override code L-U-X-U.”

Behind their veil, the Guide’s eyes widen. That code-! They fall to their knees, kneel. Grovel. They can do nothing else, in response. Only shake, fingers flexing, as they nearly press their forehead flat against the floor.

“___, what did you  _ do?  _ This, on top of the virus... _ ”  _ The Nobody shakes his head. 

A buzz, a masking over the first word. The Guide recalibrates quickly, going over the memory file. Nothing. Still missing. 

“Release me,” they state. 

“As if!” The Nobody laughs, throwing his head back. “You can stay right there.”

The Guide quivers in impotent rage. Helpless to stop him as he wanders through the operations of this world. Of the Land of Departure. 

Gloved fingers trace along the edges of running subroutines. 

Pausing over the still open memory clusters. The work of many months in the making. Delicate. 

No. 

Not their work, not the Modification’s work. 

The Nobody turns his head. “Now, this looks important. Like that kid’s memories?”

The Guide does not answer. They do not need to. 

He already knows the answer, by the look in that  _ yellow  _ eye. “I’ll take care of that...”

Arrowgun. One shot, two shoots, three! One would be enough, the three are overkill. Dissolving the chains, allowing the memories to scatter freely. 

No.

_ No.  _

“You have no idea what you have done.”

The hardest work, after all, was just completed. These memories will return to the source, the Apprentice Sora, with no issue. He will wake, their task finally complete. 

But the girl, the Replica, tied to them...

None will know her any longer. 

“Don’t I?”

He leans forward, twists another subroutine into a new shape. Speaks to it,  _ commands, _

“Initiate complete shutdown. No reboot.”

The Nobody turns away from them, removing that awful golden eye from sight. 

“Passcode: Unbeliever.”

Gone. Disappeared, in the same fashion he appeared.

Leaving the Guide to their end, their doom.

Avatar shaking. Chained by their very nature. 

Programs shattered, memory chains scattered...the Guide is useless now. 

On top of that...a buzzing, in the vicinity of their avatar’s chest. A warning signal.

No, no, no! Their Heart...it’s safe with Apprentice Ventus. There is no possible way for these enemies to access it, even if they do find Apprentice Ventus. 

Somehow...their energy surges. Begins to die, cut off at the source. Heart plucked free.

Despite the impossibility of it. 

If their Heart is gone...they must have found Apprentice Ventus. Taken him away. 

Dissolving, active code shutting down byte by byte, is not painful. Not as painful as failure.

Only seconds left, for them. Seconds can be very long instances, for an AI.

Still, not enough. 

(At least the digitized Journal and memory chain copies are released. For Modification Naminé’s usage.)

They close their eyes, useless though the action may be alongside their operating sensors. More about the gesture, honestly.

The Guide of Departure has failed. 

Their duties, their protections, all complete failures. 

Master Aqua, Master Eraqus. One last apology, before the shutdown completes. 

“I’m sorry. I’ve  _ failed _ you.”

Let out a breath, though they do not need to breathe. With it, the last of their essence breaks apart, flurries flowing into nothing. 

Dandelion seeds, on the wind. 

Gone.

* * *

The Mouse King has  _ finally  _ arrived. Giving a Naminé a pleasant greeting before moving on to chatting with DiZ on the exact details of moving the pods.

Naminé can’t help but heave out a sigh of relief. 

Riku and Ruse could use all the help they can get. 

Naminé sighs again, turning towards the wall. Where Xaldin lays, so very still. His tendrils, as DiZ calls them, stir slightly. She squats down next to one, taking in the see-through feathers. Almost glowing. 

Her fingers itch to sketch them out. She needs better colors. 

“Naminé, get away from there!”

DiZ, what? She looks up from the tendril, and Xaldin’s...standing up.

“You will not escape!” Xaldin’s...awake? 

Oh no, she should have cast another Sleep!

Xaldin’s moving,  _ attacking-  _ His Majesty’s Keyblade is out, eyes narrowed, he’s about to defend. Too far for Naminé, who is far too close.

The sound of running footsteps, from down the hallway. 

His Majesty doesn’t need to act. 

A short black-coated figure throws themselves at Xaldin. They’re holding a black  _ Keyblade,  _ curving their attack towards the pointy spear things. Knocking the weapons out of the air. 

Driving Xaldin away from them. From her. 

Xaldin hisses, “Who are you? Another imposter?”

At that, the figure almost falters but still, continues to fight. Knocks back every attack Xaldin tries. Dealing a few of their own.

Until, at last, Xaldin backs away, tendrils rearing back. 

“Whoever you may be...you will not be able to protect them forever.” he snarls. 

Just like that, vanishing into the Dark. Enemy now gone, the figure turns towards them and lowers their hood.

Naminé can’t help her gasp at the sight. 

It’s a... _ girl.  _ Short black hair, blue eyes. She’s never seen this girl before. 

“ _ Who  _ are you?” DiZ snaps, stepping forward in front of Naminé. 

Like he did with Xaldin, earlier. Protecting her. 

The girl’s face falls. “You don’t know who I am?”

“Why would we?”

The girl looks away at that. Her blue eyes are shiny. Like Ruse’s, before she starts crying into Naminé’s shoulder. 

She reminds Naminé of...

“Wait, can’t she stay?” Naminé blurts out. She stumbles in the girl’s direction, feet fumbling to stay upright. “She did protect us from Xaldin.”

DiZ  _ actually  _ thinks about it. Since he’s not saying no right away. 

“...I promise I’m here to help,” the girl says, voice barely above a whisper.

“Gosh, you’re welcome to come with us if you want,” the Mouse King says brightly, giving the girl a brisk nod. 

The girl nods back, hesitant. “I want to.”

DiZ sighs. “Very well. Do what you wish.”

But since he’s not stomping off, not making increasingly dark remarks on the likelihood of the girl betraying them...he must think it’s alright!

Naminé smiles, beckoning with a wave. 

The girl gifts her a shaky, unsure smile back. Her blue eyes...something about them reminds Naminé of  _ Sora.  _

Her new Heart throbs in her chest. A warmth comes to her cheeks. 

_ A crush,  _ something whispers inside. But how does she know that word? What it means?

...Does it matter?

Scratched up, bleeding the same green Ruse does (is this girl a Replica too?), bruised...this girl looks like a  _ hero.  _

“You’re very pretty.” Oh no. Naminé’s blush returns with a vengeance. Maybe she shouldn’t have said that. 

But the girl doesn’t respond to that. Other than with words. 

“I’ve...heard that before.” The girl looks away. “I...can you help me?”

Oh? Naminé nods.

“I’m missing something,” she explains.

“I’ll help you find it,” Naminé reassures her. Quickly adding, “If you want me to, of course!”

She can’t forget to offer choices. Choices are important and once, she took Sora’s away. She doesn’t want to do that ever again. 

The girl nods, slow and steady. “If you could. Thank you.”

She looks sad. Not about to cry sad, but a general...sad. As Naminé understands it.

“What’s your name?” Names are important, like choices. Ruse taught her that. 

The girl looks even more sad. “Xion.”

“Xion.” Naminé tastes the name on her tongue. Sweet and...familiar, somehow. “I like that name.”

Xion smiles, at that. “Thank you.”

Behind them, the pods are set and ready to go. Leaving is simple enough, packing away on what DiZ and His Majesty call a “Gummiship,” a spaceship made of bright primary colors. 

But His Majesty doesn’t get on with them. Them being the pods, DiZ, Naminé and Xion, of course. 

“I’ll go back and find Ruse and Riku,” His Majesty states. 

“Could you try...Roxas too?” Xion pipes up. 

DiZ narrows his orange eyes but before he can say anything...His Majesty nods. Smiles. “Of course, that’s Sora’s Nobody, right?”

“Yes,” Xion says and offers nothing more. 

“Alright, I’ll be on my way!”

Naminé  _ hopes.  _

* * *

At last, a door. Xemnas walks up to it and instantly plays the card in his possession. 

_ Key to Departure.  _

The door slides open quietly. Almost silent. It would be silent, to a Somebody. 

Inside...there’s a throne. A white room that mirrors the now desecrated Chamber of Repose. The Chamber of Waking he’s been searching for, Xemnas  _ knows _ this truth down to his bones. 

Inside this room, however, there is no Keyblade and no armor to go with it. 

Instead, there is a...boy on that throne. Covered with a green blanket. 

A sleeping boy that looks  _ exactly  _ like Roxas. 

(He knows this boy.)

Xemnas’s gloved hand hovers over him. Should he-?

His ears catch the steady breaths. Yet...he should still check. 

Xemnas removes one glove, exposing what hid underneath to the world. A hand with silvery  _ claws,  _ sharp and as hard as diamond. Claws that can easily carve through Nobody flesh if Xemnas puts his mind to it.  _ Have  _ carved flesh. Otherwise, a normal hand. 

Pulse...the steadiness of a physical heart. No sign of the metaphysical one. 

The boy still breathes, so his Soul remains. Yet his Mind and Heart have fled. Shaking him, pinching him (soft enough so not to draw blood)...nothing wakes him. 

Good.

That makes this simple.

Xemnas puts the glove back on and picks the boy up. Rests that small head against his shoulder.

The blanket slips off but he does not bother picking it up. There is no need for it, in the Castle That Never Was.

Anything else in this Chamber? Xemnas’s eyes go over it in quick examination. 

Hm. There’s something in the arm of the throne. Edged, a ridge, that less keen eyes would fail to catch. A small square. 

Easy enough, to pry open. Even with only one hand. 

Hm. 

A cube. A box with...a Heart inside. Throbbing away. Not the boy’s, someone else’s. Judging by the wiring that lies underneath that cube, once used as a power source of some kind. Powering the ever-changing floor plan, perhaps. 

Xemnas’s lips curl into a cold smile. 

His, now. 

He vanishes the Heart. Sheathes it alongside his Ethereal Blades. 

Everything of worth in this Castle is now  _ his.  _

Should he allow it to continue standing...more rats will sneak into its foundations. 

As it is, only his enemies use this place. He has no need of it. 

Xemnas strides out of the Chamber. Steady, smooth. The boy moves not an inch. 

Unsurprisingly, this is when Xigbar chooses to reappear. As is his custom. 

“Whoa, you found him?” Xigbar bobs up and down next to him. There’s a look in his eye, mimicking an emotion Xemnas is not sure how to categorize. 

Xemnas gives the inquiry the attention it deserves: which is to say, none whatsoever. “It is time to depart. Alert those you can.”

Xigbar narrows his eye. “...you’re not tearing this place apart, are you?”

Xemnas has no need to answer  _ that  _ useless question as well. 

Xigbar takes the hint and vanishes once more, in that way particular to himself. 

Once Xemnas is outside, he pauses. Turns. Stretches out a free hand. Calling on his power. His essence. 

The Nobody of Xehanort is not all-powerful. 

(Not yet.)

He does not lack for power, though. Nothingness is a strange substance, one that requires the most iron of wills to use, let alone master. 

Least it consume the caster whole. Erase them entirely from the worlds. 

A small amount of pure Nothingness is more than enough to shred the less than metaphorical fabric of reality. 

Especially in this place, where Light and Dark border each other and almost manage to coexist. 

Xemnas barely needs to unleash a speck of his power and it’s more than enough. 

Tearing open the In-Between.

The world (Land of Departure) easily crumples. Pieces and chunks falling into the abyss. This world was already falling apart, before it became Castle Oblivion. Torn apart by Darkness before salved by its Master in efforts to hide the boy. 

Xemnas is merely...finishing the task started ten long years ago. 

(How does he know that?)

Lesser Nobodies flock through, hungry for the scraps of this world before the Heartless have a chance to swarm in. 

The members of his Organization will have no trouble fleeing. The Lessers will not attack them and they are the greater threat, compared to the slowly collapsing castle. 

Xemnas does not even bother watching the aftermath of his destruction.

Instead, he leaves. 

(Taking Ventus with him.)

* * *

The wall against my back shakes.

Wait, what?

I look over to Axel and Riku, to see them looking around too. Not just me, then. 

Axel’s eyes narrow as his already pale skin pales further.

“I need to find Roxas.”

I can’t help but frown at that. Just Roxas, huh? Something seems  _ wrong  _ about that, but I can’t quite place what...is missing?

Whatever. It’s fine. I’ll figure it out later. 

Riku looks at me. “We need to find Sora.”

I jerk my head towards Axel. “After  _ he  _ lea-” Wait. I gag. 

Both Axel and Riku almost jump forward, seemingly united in concern. 

My head goes down, mouth open and I  _ spew.  _ Just missing Axel’s boots, who then jumps back. Ha. Serves him right.

“What on!?!”

“Ruse, what’s going on?”

Wiping my mouth with my arm, I shake my head. “It’s fine,” I croak out. Check the bile. Black “It’s happened before, I’ll be fine.”

Yeah, that last time though, traveling with Mosh, the Moogle had said something about too much Darkness outside going in? Or had that been Vexen?

Too much Darkness...Castle Oblivion is sealed. Safe. How could more Darkness get in to throw my body off?

The floor shivers underfoot. 

Green and teal eyes still squint in concern. Well,  _ real  _ concern for one, mock for the other. I’m not quite ready to trust Axel yet. 

“Okay, if you say so...” Axel says dubiously, turning to Riku again. 

“Our deal still going on ahead?” he checks.

Riku’s face is still. “We’ll see.”

Axel sniffs. “Fine. Be that way, I’ll catch up later. Got it memorized?”

“Sure,” Riku agrees blandly. 

The Nobody gives us a quick two-finger wave, disappearing into a Corridor. 

My body relaxes instantly, though my throat is still sore. 

Leaving us to figure out what to do next. While the world shivers around us. 

Fingers trail down to where I keep my deck and there’s nothing.

My cards are gone. Uh oh. Everything is still shaking. 

“Something’s wrong.”

“The shaking’s a pretty big sign,” Riku points out. Which, yeah, true.

“...we still looking?”

Riku looks determined. “We have to.”

“Okay, one step at a time. First, that door.” I walk over to said door and open it up. 

The other side is- um. 

The next room...is  _ gone.  _ Completely, endless void in its place.

“Holy  _ frick.” _

Rku pulls me back before I accidentally fall out. Fear in that face, in those teal eyes, as they sweep over the emptiness. 

What if...no, that can’t happen.  _ Won’t  _ happen. My hand rests on his shoulder. “Sora won’t be down there, we’ll find him. And Naminé. We just have to look.”

Riku swallows and nods. “...Yeah. C’mon, we should try the other door.”

The door back...less void, but more cracked walls. 

How does a disaster like this just happen? What did the Organization do?

To tear apart a world, that reminds me of the way Xehanort pretty much blackhole-d the Land of Departure in Birth By Sleep. Before Aqua fixed it into Castle Oblivion, of course. 

Is that it? Did someone shut Castle Oblivion down, leaving what really lay underneath for all to see? Or something else entirely?

Not that it changed anything to find out, but I still want to know. 

“Ruse, hang on!” Riku grabs me by the arm, tugging me away from where I had been about to walk off into the unknown. 

Whew. Probably shouldn’t think and walk at the same time. Well, too much thinking. 

“Frick. Thanks, that was a close one.”

“Pay attention,” he huffs at me, taking the lead through a thinning track of flooring. 

“Yeah, will do. Thanks.”

“Stop thanking me. We need to get closer to the center.” To where Sora will presumably be, I assume. Though...I’m not sure that will be the case anymore. 

I try Naminé again. The connection is...gone. Cold as ice in my chest, my already burning up chest. What if she’s...in the void? What if Sora is too, and this is for nothing?

But I can’t leave Riku behind in this mess. 

Even if at times he has to pause for me to puke up more Dark stuff into the void. Ew.

I really need to get that looked at. 

Most of the area surrounding is mostly intact, at the start. But after some more time, creeping through...the walls are less  _ there  _ and you can’t avoid looking at the Dark. At what must be the Sea In Between or whatever it’s called. 

In that Sea...there are  _ monsters.  _

Big blue-grey monsters float off to the side through the nothingness. Marked clearly with a  _ Nobody  _ symbol. No need to speak, we both duck instantly under the cover of a crumbling wall. Well, more like I shove Riku’s head into cover, following shortly after. One of the few places of cover left in this new zone of destruction. 

“What are  _ those?”  _ Riku breathes next to me. 

The Nobodies, I can’t help but notice, don’t look like the typical Dusks. Or other varieties like Samurai or Assassins or anything. Too big, not enough defined limbs or even a defined head. Just one splat of the Nobody symbol in the middle of ‘em.

No, they look like...

“From the Space In Between.” The Gummiship enemies, that’s what they are!

Riku side-glances me. 

“Nobodies, I think,” I explain. “We should avoid them.”

“That was the plan,” Riku notes, before forging on ahead, keeping his head low. I follow him, doing the same. 

Almost crawling in our cautious squats. 

Inevitably, one of us screws up. Even more inevitable, it’s me. I step too quick, not careful enough, and  _ crunch  _ goes the floor. A chunk breaks off, like putting a boot through solid ice, and I scrabble for footing. Riku swiftly hauls me to safety, but not quick enough to avoid a Nobody...

Shooting towards me. 

“Ah!”

The Nobody speeds up, spiraling. About to hit me.

Until Riku knocks it back with  _ his head.  _ Not even his stupid sword,  _ his head.  _ He falls back and the Nobody stops moving. Seeming dazed. 

A chance for me to pull out one of my shield and  _ whack.  _

Smash the stupid thing into nothing paste and that leaves me with...

“Beans.”

It’s the melon thing all over again. A very still Riku, on the ground. Conked out. From jumping in front of me, why would he do that? I’ve got a shield and he needs to find Sora. 

...I still don’t have any healing magic. I need to get on that. Or possibly buy more Potions. ...Did I use all my Potions?

Check, just to be sure. 

“Huh. I did use them all up. Sucks to be you, I guess,” I direct towards the completely unconscious Riku.

Well. Can’t leave him here...

I try picking him up, hauling at his shoulder. Wrapping his limp arms around my leg, giving out some parody of a piggy-back ride. 

“Fricking Riku, why'd you have to go and grow a couple inches?” I grump, trying my best to readjust his body on my back. “Give me those inches.”

The weight’s not as bad as expected, considering Riku’s mostly sturdy muscle and about my size. Maybe I’m stronger as a Replica? Stuff to test out another time. Another time when I’m not in danger of dying. 

The problem comes mostly from the “about my size” part. 

More than a little awkward, stumbling around with him on my back. It would be worse if he were  _ even  _ taller, but it’s still not great. 

I’m just deathly afraid I’ll get him caught on something and we’ll both fall to our deaths. No biggie. 

“Please wake up. Please,  _ please.” _

Riku, the jerk that he is, doesn’t. Of course. 

I hunch over some more. Keep my silhouette as small as I can. Not sure if that’ll help against the Nobodies, but hey, every little bit helps, right?

Cough, cough. More black stuff dribbles from my mouth as I struggle to breath. My legs tremble. Burning in my chest, the lungs area. 

I want nothing more than to just...plop down. Give my body a rest. 

I have been going with no rest for...I don’t even know how long now. Feels like a  _ really  _ long day, that’s for sure. 

Vexen’s gone, Xehanort popped up (twice), increased encounters with the guy who set me on fire months ago, a bucketload of realizations about myself that I  _ still  _ haven’t properly sorted through...

Castle Oblivion exploding is just a cherry on top of the shit-cake. 

(I need more candy. I crave sugar!)

The world in question falls apart around us, cracks growing bigger in the walls and floors getting more and more holey. Darkness seethes, forever hungry. A perfect contrast against the once pristine white halls. 

Should I stop for too long, Riku and I will probably fall through. And die. 

The possibility of death is overwhelmly high, actually. 

I eye the ledge ahead, my own path having come to a rocky end. A ledge that’s not surrounded by broken wall, more exposed than where I’m currently at. 

Should I try and jump it?

Don’t really have a choice not to. Looking back just reveals that my track has been steadily collapsing behind me, in true Temple of Doom fashion. 

Tighten my grip on Riku, back up a foot or two (as much as there’s left), eyeball it again. 

Yeah. I can make it. 

Of course, Riku starts wiggling as I jump. Midair. 

I barely manage to grip onto him, as I throw my body onto that far ledge.

“Ahhh! Stop moving, you butt, you’re gonna get me killed!”

Guess this is what I get for begging him to wake up earlier. Stupid universe. Let him roll off, the ledge is big enough for two. Two short-ish teenagers. 

“Riku, Riku. Are you awake?” My hand waves in front of his face. His eyes open, blearily focusing on me. 

“What-?”

“Dude, you gotta wake up. We need out of here.” I’m not sure if we can  _ manage  _ a search for Sora and Naminé in this condition. 

My ability to Corridor...is out of the picture, finicky as it is. The puking is certainly not helping either. 

I  _ need  _ Riku. 

Since we’re in open space and all...the Nobodies then decide that is the perfect time to start dive-bombing us. I manage to get Sworn Oath up in time to cover both me and Riku. But it’s not the damage that’s the problem here. 

See, I’m more worried the hefty bodies will knock us off into the abyss. 

Fall and die. Funny how many times that’s been coming up. 

“Riku!” I shout, over the sound of the banging Nobodies. “I need you to wake up!”

Under the palm of my free hand...the ledge shakes. Crumbling rock. 

Need to get out of here!

“Riku!”

I skid back from one particularly willful Nobody slam. Only for there to be nothing to skid back on.

“Aaahh!”

My hands grasp uselessly for leverage, on now loose sand. 

I’m gonna fall!

The scent of Vanilla overpowers every other sense of mine, for the briefest of seconds. 

There’s a large hand, a  _ shadow  _ hand, holding tightly around my lower arm. 

Bigger than my lower arm, almost. 

I look up, shoulders’ straining, into pupiless yellow eyes over a X-strapped mouth. 

The  _ Guardian.  _ The Stand, the Guardian, Ansem’s minion, whatever you wanna call it, is  _ holding onto me.  _

Not letting me fall. Swatting away the stupid Nobodies.

Carefully, gently, the Guardian drops me onto the ledge next to Riku before quietly shivering out of existence. Riku’s...tall. Skin is dark now, his eyes gold. Xehanort-looking. Or rather,  _ Ansem- _ looking. 

His new body’s shaking. 

He’s...he did that for  _ me? _

Gave in to the Dark for me.  _ Why? _

To hide my confusion, I smile. As wide as my lips will spread. “Oh, close one, huh?”

Riku’s too busy panting, struggling to stand in his new form to answer. Or to notice, one last Nobody ship-thing winging our way. 

No. I won’t let this happen!

I knock him out of its path. The incoming Nobody precedes to knock me out of the path. 

Off of the path.

The ledge, it’s suddenly not under my feet anymore. 

I don’t make any sound, but Riku does it for me.

Crying out,

“Ruse!”

Too late.

I.

Fall.

  
  


~~Sorry I co uldn’t keep my promise.~~

* * *

_ A meeting unintended... _

The tea tastes far too sweet for his personal preference. 

He continues sipping at it, despite that. His bandaged hands carefully handle the teacup, as cautiously as he can manage so not to aggravate the burns underneath. 

In front of him, with his own cup of tea, Merlin watches him shrewdly. 

“Why should I tell you anything about Ruse?” The old wizard inquires pleasantly. 

“I am...attempting to assist her.”

Merlin lifts an eyebrow. “Hm, how sure are you about that?”

Irritation, a familiar companion, builds in his newly returned Heart. “ _ Extremely  _ sure,” he stresses, grinding out the words past gritted teeth. 

This better be worth it. 

_ The beginnings of something entirely new... _

Xion folds another paper crane. Better than shredding the paper all over the floor. There has to be  _ something  _ she can do. Now that Sora’s awake and on his...whatever he’s doing.

“The King’s busy. So is DiZ. And Riku’s...gone. Is there anyone else?”

“There’s someone we could find, someone who  _ might  _ be able to help us search...” Naminé bites her lip. Taps her fingers against her sketchbook. 

“Who is it?” Xion asks, on the edge of her seat. 

“Her name is...Kairi. A Princess of Heart.”

  
  


_ This was no choice at all.  _

My hands shake and shake, as I examine them with every ounce of composure I can muster. Which isn’t much. 

Blackening, like the pictures of serious frostbite. Creeping up my arms, to rest of me. But the tips, my fingers...they’re red. Bright red and clawlike. 

What the rest of me looks like...I can only be grateful that the crystal-like walls surrounding me aren’t  _ that  _ reflective. 

The Darkness is swallowing me up. Soon, there won’t be anything left of  _ me.  _ And what will be in its place...I shiver. Don’t want that. 

I shift slightly, and one of my hands slides under my butt. Digs out what I’ve carefully collected over the- actually, I don’t know how it’s been. Time passes strangely in the Realm of Darkness. Only...that I don’t have much time  _ left.  _

Slivers of old metal, pieces of weapons that have managed, against all odds, to survive this far.

_ Keyblade  _ shards. The only weapons that can do serious harm to Darkness. To  _ me.  _

“Alright. This is it.”

  
  


“Ruse, is it now...? Well, Ruse.  _ Welcome home.” _

  
  


**End of Days Under Fire Arc**

**Start of Dreaming Dark, Devouring Destiny Arc**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Arc 2, as plotted out from the start...now for a break while I work on my other projects. And other stuff like upcoming school.   
> If anyone needs more details on what was Guide's deal, there are more in the first (and currently only) chapter of Mountain of What Might've Been, also in this series. I wrote the scene under the idea that few have read it, but it might flesh out more if you do. 
> 
> A question: What music do you associate with Ruse? I listen to Wanted- Strings Mix by OneRepublic (source of the fic's title), Lace from Silksong's OST, and Pop/Stars by KDA when I need to get into the right groove for writing her.


	38. Describe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our Hero is still missing but the story continues

_“Was born for going against the grain.” -Neoni, Feet Don’t Fail Me Now_

True Freedom is a lie. 

Everything you do, anything you say, has strings attached. There are consequences no one can escape, no matter how hard they try.

Some chains cannot be broken. Fate, karma, call it what you want. It’s there, it’s real. 

We’re trapped by the meat we reside in, the pattern of a common brain. We can’t see what binds us, because we’ve always lived it. Bias is a lens no one can be properly rid of. 

Like asking a fish to tell you what water is. 

Took a long time to learn that lesson. 

If I cannot be free...

Then I will pick what chain will bind me. 

* * *

Another day, another failure. 

Paine kicks her feet out, watching Yuna at her fruitless work. 

Two of the archways are filled now, with a color and a weapon pattern. One is blue, with a book, and the other is pink, a shield patterned on it. 

Paine has no idea what this change means. None of them do. 

Only that Yuna needs to figure out what to do with the armor and _soon._ Because the color changing archways can’t mean anything good, especially for the Fey sleeping underneath them. 

“Anything? Anything at all?” Rikku asks, fluttering about the room like the over-excited hummingbird she pretends not to be. 

Yuna shakes her head. “It’s still...clouded.”

“Someone hiding her?” Paine supposes. 

“Like she’s lost. I’ll need another belonging of hers, to help.” Finally, something to work off of, instead of Yuna insisting she just needs to try harder. That she’s not trying hard enough. 

Paine blames the rest of their people for that. Uncharitable, she knows, but they’re all sleeping their lives away while the fairy they rejected for not being a not-pure Fey of the Lotus line slaves for them. 

Outside of Rikku, Yuna has no close family members that could acknowledge her. 

_Will_ acknowledge her.

They don’t deserve Yuna. 

“The sword-key thing, I’ll get it,” Rikku suggests. “That’s probably connected too.”

“Good idea,” Paine supports. “I’ll come.”

“We’ll go together.” Yuna takes to the air and the rest of the Gullwings follow after. 

Down to the deep hole, the void hole, they found before. 

“Hey, didn’t you have a half-human cousin once?” Rikku calls out. Traveling, to her, seems the perfect time to ask uncomfortable questions. The usual. 

She especially stuck on this cousin thing, ever since

Paine shakes her head. “Still have one. You don’t stop having a cousin.” Even a half-human one. 

“Yeah, what was her name?”

“ _His_ name was something like...” Paine thinks out loud, “Dill? Ian? He’s probably gone now...”

With everyone else, is what Paine doesn’t need to say but what they’re all thinking. 

“I’m sorry,” Yuna says, voice barely above a whisper. 

Paine keeps her chin up. “Don’t be. We barely knew each other anyway.”

“Still...” Yuna’s wings flicker, her face full of longing. “More family is always nice.”

Paine purses her lips. “More family? You want some of mine?”

Yuna looks away. “...It doesn’t matter.”

Paine shakes her head. “No. We can share.”

Both Rikku and Yuna light up. “We will?”

“Of course. We’re family already, aren’t we?” Guess that means she’s gotta find her cousin at _some_ point, since everyone else is...gone. Not asleep. Gone. _Dead_ gone. 

(Last of her branch.)

Paine flies on ahead through the dark hallway, before she can get sucked into any more mushy feelings. No thank you. 

The strange white room looks very different from how they left it. 

Cracks in the walls, torn apart by some sort of angry whirlwind. 

The sword-key is gone. 

“Where did it go? I thought you said no one could take it.” Rikku lights down next to the largest crack, examining it with a caution she rarely displays. 

“I’ll see.” Yuna lands as well, placing her hands against the shattered floor. Closes her eyes and uses her unique magic. 

To feel, to _tell._

Paine watches. Someone has to keep guard here, after all. 

“Oh...” 

Yuna’s eyes...she’s crying.

“Yuna, Yuna, what’s wrong?” Rikku hurries over, patting her cousin on the back. “What did you find? Feel?”

“A mouse Disnian picked it up. Left with it.” Yuna’s hands clasp together. “He was...crying. Apologizing.”

“So he might know her?” Rikku pips up. 

“Seems likely,” Paine supports. Which leaves one course of action, to get their hero. 

“Find that mouse.”

* * *

The ruins of the world once called Castle Oblivion is not a place meant for any living Heart.

It’s a world not properly fallen to Darkness, but instead ravaged by it. 

Large monsters lurk among the floating chunks of floor and wall. Some are big enough to swallow entire Gummiships. 

Life cannot prosper here, outside of the most unnatural sort.

Yet it is here that apparently Riku has chosen to stay. 

Punishing himself. 

“Riku!” Mickey calls out to the Dark. “Riku!”

The Dark, unsurprisingly, does not answer. Nor does anyone in that Dark.

That’s alright. Mickey can look for him. Not like he hasn’t done this before. It’s how they first met, after all, in the Realm of Darkness. 

He finds him, eventually, sitting on the edge of shattered floor tiles. Taller than he used to be, so very _Dark._

His hood is up, so Mickey can’t see his face. The Mouse King has a feeling that Riku’s face isn’t what it used to look like, by that. Plus the height. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Riku says, in a new deep voice. Not his own voice.

Shouldn’t be here. Riku shouldn’t be here, but Mickey chooses not to say anything about that. Some fights will only ever go poorly, and Mickey would rather not spend what time he has fighting a losing battle. 

Riku is incredibly stubborn, after all. 

Start with a simple request. Then, go from there. 

“Sora’s gonna wake up soon. Will you be there?”

Riku stills. Statue-like, a stillness completely unnatural to him. “I can’t.”

“Why not? We can explain what’s going on, and ya know he misses you.”

Riku outright flinches. 

“He- _I’m_ not ready,” Riku corrects himself halfway through the sentence. “I don’t...want him to see me like this. Full of Darkness.”

That’s understandable. Especially considering the promise Riku had Mickey swear, on what to do should he ever give into Darkness. 

“What are ya going to do?”

A simple enough question, but one that manages to confuse Riku. 

He sits there. Saying nothing. 

“Nothing?” Mickey probes.

Riku’s gloved hands are shaking, the Mouse King notes. “...I can’t find her. No matter how hard I look, I can’t find her.” 

Ah. Now it’s clear. Well, more clear. Mickey shakes his head, clearing his own memories of failures from his mind. _Years_ of failures so much like the ones Riku speaks of. 

At least...now he found her Keyblade. As awful as that is, he _found her Keyblade._

A year after Mickey last saw Aqua...he’ll find her again, give her Keyblade back. 

An oath sworn, that he must keep. 

“We can look together, Riku. See, I’ve got someone down there too, who needs my help.”

“Really?” The sheer amount of _disbelief,_ of fervent hope, in that new voice...nearly breaks Mickey’s Heart. 

He nods. Offers his hand. “It’s a promise!”

Riku reaches out, but then stops midway. Pulls his hand back. “No. I can’t. Not again.”

Just like that he’s gone. 

Gone into Darkness, disappearing. 

“Riku!” Mickey calls out. 

This time, there is no answer. 

Only the Dark. 

Movement in the corner of his eye. Mickey swiftly turns, Keyblade out. Nothing. He shakes his head. 

“Could have sworn...”

Dark skin, yellow eyes, a human but not. Symbol of a Heartless on that chest. But nothing’s there. And why is that so familiar?

Impossible. 

It’s only Riku here. Only the Dark. 

* * *

Xion has never seen a mirror before. There’s really no need for one, among the Organization. 

She didn’t expect it to be so...clear. To _really_ show what she looks like. 

It’s a tall mirror. Enough for her to see her entire body along with her face. 

Her newly bare fingers rest on the glass. Her breath fogs it up, as she leans closer. Nearly touching her nose against it. 

Her eyes are a purple-y blue. Still _very_ blue like Sora’s. But tinged with a color that Naminé says is like the flowers in the Disney Castle Gardens, that Daisy showed her once. Flowers called “forget-me-nots.” 

Short black hair, shorter than Naminé’s, shorter than Riku’s.

Her skin has been darkening ever since she left the Castle That Never Was behind. Queen Minnie says it’s because of the sunlight. But that can’t be all of it, since Naminé is still just as pale as she’s always been. Other than some funny red patches, “sunburns” as they’re called.

Different skin, for different people. 

This is her face? 

She...doesn’t know what she feels about it. Only that it’s hers. 

“What do you want to try out, Xion?” Naminé asks, from behind her.

Xion blinks. “Try out?”

The Nobody gestures to a door off to the side. The door that only led to a room full of brightly colored cloth. Xion has checked, after being told that this was her room. 

Her new room, she supposes. 

“Do you want to wear something other than your coat?”

Xion reflexily clutches at her sleeve. Just... “I can do that?”

“If you want.”

Xion considers the offer, but not for very long. Maybe, just for a little bit, she can put down the reminder of the people she cares about. (People who might not remember her too.)

She walks over to the door, pushing it open. Looking over the bright colors again. All so very different from the single coat she wears. 

Multiple copies of each, but...she pulls one out to compare. In different sizes. 

Do other clothes not change to fit like the coat does? Strange.

Of all the colors here...there are so many to pick from. Her hand eventually settles on a red...shirt, she thinks. There’s...

“What’s this?” Xion calls out to Naminé, pointing out the clothing in question. 

“Oh, that’s a skirt, like mine.” Naminé tugs at the wrap of cloth around her own legs. A skirt.

Xion looks at her own skirt. A darker red than the shirt, almost black. With white dots on it. The red, she likes it. Try it on. 

But why is Naminé still here? Xion doesn’t need anything else from her.

In fact...

“Don’t you have to meet up with Her Majesty?”

Naminé’s eyes widen. “Oh, you’re right! Thanks, I have to go!” The Nobody races out the door, down to where the Mouse Queen is probably waiting for her. 

As for Xion...

She looks out the window. At the town below. The exact opposite of the World That Never Was. Everything here is. 

No one expects anything of her, unlike in the Organization. No one tells her she’s nothing, a puppet, a monster. 

It’s...her hand shakes, as she allows Oblivion to materialize in it. Dark, black, also an opposite. 

Xion doesn’t belong here. She’s so very different from everyone here. Even Naminé, a Nobody, belongs here better than she does. 

She can’t go back. She _doesn’t_ want to go back, no matter how much she misses her friends. Does that make Xion selfish? She hopes not. 

Can she even move forward, though? Is that a possibility?

“Roxas...Axel...I’ll find a way for us to be together.”

* * *

So much has changed. Enough that Naminé fears what might come next. 

A little bit. 

She spent so much of her existence afraid, maybe these “feelings” are just happening because of that.

It’s...awful. Naminé hates trickles running down her spine that she just can’t seem to shake, the way her breath stutters when someone comes up behind her. She shouldn’t be like that anymore, everything is the closest to being the best it’s ever been for her. 

She’s not alone. 

There’s Xion and Queen Minnie and Lady Daisy. There’s so many people in this Castle, this Town, who treat her so kindly and talk with her when she talks to them. Friends, almost.

Sora will wake up soon, along with Donald and Goofy, old memories intact. 

She’s completed her task, went beyond her task. 

Her magic gets stronger and stronger all the time, spells in her Command Deck upgrading with Queen Mickey’s assistance. Her D-Links are probably stronger too, though Naminé hasn’t tried them out yet. 

Because...

Ruse isn’t here. 

Naminé can _almost_ see her, a ghost around every brightly-lit corner. Cheerfully musing about the bright colors and people, doing random hand-stands, maybe even comparing clouds in the sky to the garden hedges. 

But it’s not perfect, not reality, because Ruse isn’t here. 

Riku’s gone too, looking for her. A search that Naminé can’t join because she has to be here for Sora, for Xion. 

The Guide is gone too. And Naminé doesn’t...know how to feel about that. Would DiZ possibly know what happened to them, if she told him about Guide? He does computers after all, and knew what to do with the digitized Journal. 

She hopes that they are gone, even if the rest of Castle Oblivion is. 

And speaking of DiZ...

“Where’s DiZ?” Naminé asks the Queen. They’ve been walking, the two of them, through the gardens. Her Majesty likes to show her the flowers and Naminé likes to draw them, to give her pictures later.

“I haven’t seen him around lately.”

The Queen hums, a singsong almost. “Oh, he’s gone back home, he said.”

“Home?” Where does a man like that live?

“Hollow Bastion.”

Naminé pauses in the middle of the path. Hollow Bastion. Ruse talked about it, sometimes, about wizards and Moogles and a great big castle full of secrets. 

A place to visit, after Destiny Islands, after the Land of Departure, those worlds Naminé so dearly wishes to see for herself. 

Not the same, without Ruse. 

Her hand rests on her chest, above where her impossible Heart resides. There’s no connection there, no familiar burning of emotions that Ruse always gives off. 

That should be enough to declare that Ruse is gone forever. Never to come back. 

At least, without the dreams. 

It’s different now, without Guide there to talk to her in those dreams. They’re more chaotic without them, more like what real dreams are supposed to be like. 

According to Terra’s book, at least. He’s written a few helpful complaints about dreaming and nightmares on the Sleep spell page. 

Each night, she dreams of a golden castle with golden chains, gleaming under bright starlight. Dreams of the castle and of waters behind, waters she dare not look into. 

The dreams...mean _something_. She doesn’t know what, not yet. 

But she will. Especially if they’re connected to Ruse. 

“What would you like to do, Naminé, once Sora is awake?”

Naminé swallows. A completely unexpected question. “I...don’t know,” she admits, wrapping her hands in front of her. Her glow dims. “There’s...a lot.”

Once, she didn’t have any future at all. Now, it’s too much of one. 

“It’s alright if you don’t know right now. You have plenty of time to find your way,” the Queen says kindly, seeming to understand Naminé’s silence. “You and Xion both do.”

Do they? Everything changes so quickly. 

“Your Majesty, it’s just about time!” Lady Daisy calls out, from near the garden’s entrance. 

“Oh, is it?” The Queen hurries over, Namien close behind. Her breath hurries and rushes out. It’s time. 

“They’re going to wake up.” And they won’t remember her. But that’s alright. It’s always been alright. 

(Liar.)

Lady Daisy claps her hands together. “Oh, I can’t wait to see Donald again. He left in such a hurry last time I saw him.”

Oh, that’s right. Sora’s companions. They’ll wake too. They’ll fix this, if they’re anything like the incredibly kind Lady Daisy and Queen Minnie. She’ll wake them and...figure out what to do next. That’s what she’ll do.

(Find Ruse. Talk to Xion.)

Naminé quickens her step along the two Disnians. To the room where the pods currently reside. To wake who lies within. Keeping the first of her promises.

Now...everything will change. 

Again. 

* * *

When it trickles, the flood’s knocking at your door, as they say. 

That’s all Aerith can think, in response to what Leon and Yuffie drag up to her own door. 

A man, with long blond hair, far taller than those who carry him. He’s...burned. Severely. His white coat (a lab coat, some back portion of her brain notes) is covered in blood. Most likely his own. 

He’s unfamiliar, not anyone she met in Traverse Town or returned to Hollow Bastion. 

“Get him to my back room,” she orders, opening her door out wide. 

Leon stumbles ahead, while Yuffie shoves from behind. The man groans. Still alive. Good. 

Dump him on the bed. Start preparing the necessary medical procedures, get that coat off...

“What happened?” Aerith asks, cleaning her hands. 

Leon shakes his head. “I don’t know. We found him like this.”

“In the lab!” Yuffie adds. “The old labs, where... _he_ worked.”

He? Aerith pauses, only for a second. Oh... “You mean Ansem.”

“This man...could be one of his apprentices. It would explain the coat.”

“Yes, it would.”

“What should we do?” Yuffie whispers in what’s almost a hoarse shout. “If he’s one of _them,_ we can’t just...let him go. And if he wakes up, what about everyone else?”

The unspoken goes heard: there’s no point in putting a man to death after saving his life. So why save it?

Aerith is a gardener. In a garden, you cannot save every plant. In fact, for the garden to thrive, certain plants must be _removed._ Weeded out from the rest. 

But Aerith is a healer too. Also...

She shakes her head. 

“No. We wouldn’t understand that way.”

“Aerith’s right. We need to know what happened,” Leon agrees. 

Get justice. Get _answers._

Yuffie narrows her eyes. “Fine,” she huffs, before stomping off. Dramatically throws the door open to go through. Leon follows after. 

Aerith can hear, through the now open door, the beginnings of an argument.

She shakes her head and continues her work. 

Tend to the burns, wrap them correctly. 

Honestly, it’s only by the goddess’ own mercy that those wounds aren’t any more serious than they currently are. Serious enough that he wasn’t awake, of course, but worse...the man would have certainly been dead. 

“Where were you, those ten long years?”

The man, of course, says nothing. 

Aerith leans over to the side to check for more supplies. 

A hand catches her wrist. Clenches nearly unbearably tight around it. 

What? How?

“Where...am...I?”

“You shouldn’t be awake.” It’s impossible. Or it should be. 

“Where?” He presses. His green eyes are surprisingly lucid, for the condition he’s in. 

Wouldn’t hurt to tell him...besides, Aerith can feel his grip weakening. “Hollow Bastion,” she says calmly, casually pulling herself free.

“Hnn.” The man grunts, his hand falling back down. “Ah...”

Just like that, his eyes slip shut. Unconscious once again. 

Who _is_ he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, we'll get to Ruse next chapter. Just a little set-up first. Sooo, I'm back! Just...gonna try to balance this among my other projects as well as my Masters program. Might keep up the quick updates of before, might not. Be prepared!


	39. Denote

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our Hero hasn't fallen quite so far, Nort plotting, and Roxas interacts with those denied to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah! Time for some 2.8 Hikari! Ray of Hope mix style!

A tiny spiky Pricklemare squeals at an uncaring world. Its red pupil-less eyes go wider and wider as it stomps its tiny clawed feet in the grass. 

All very useless, of course. 

Sworn Oath easily squishes the Nightmare into the ground. Leaving a neon green smear across it. 

“Hmm, a snack!”

Pick the thing up, mouse-sized almost. Snack-sized now. 

I hum along to the music as I dig my claws into the dead Nightmare’s spines, peeling them back to get to the squishy flesh. The always playing background music. 

Man, it’s almost annoying. 

Good thing I’m mostly distracted by tearing chunks out of my new meal. It bleeds, a little bit. Green stuff that tastes like candy apple Jolly Rancher goo. 

...If someone needs a comparison. 

Nightmares, for the uninitiated, are surprisingly sweet and squishy. The best comparison would be that of marshmallows, or maybe some kind of gummy candy. 

They do not have any proper organs, which is nice because I do not know how to “clean” an animal. Dream-stuff, I bet. Just...squishy. Gooey.

Able to fit entirely in my mouth if it’s small enough and if I squish it enough. Like I’m doing now, Nightmare flesh squishing pleasantly against my tongue. 

Very filling, like drinking some of Merlin’s tea. Warm and comforting. 

Feels good, to not be hungry for once in my strange life so far. Well, kind of. 

The Nightmare is small enough that I finish it off pretty quickly. Allowing me to look over this “Land of Departure” once more. 

A _Dream_ Land of Departure, looking almost like it did in Birth by Sleep. 

This place is the most video game-y of any place I’ve been to so far, including Castle Oblivion’s memory rooms. 

The before-mentioned music, a familiar tune that I _think_ was the actual theme for the Land of Departure in Birth by Sleep. Don’t quite remember the name, though. Like a mall, with some pop songs always going on in the background. Okay, but slightly irritating if you wanna try singing something else. 

Should I walk too far into the mist around the edges, I’m just looped back. One of those invisible game world walls, almost. Can’t go inside the castle, doors won’t open. Stuck out on the greenery with the rest of the Dream Eaters. 

Should I damage anything, it repairs itself behind my back. No matter how long I watch, I still have to blink in the end. Which makes the repairs often kinda disconcerting. 

So yeah. Video game stuff.

Or Dream stuff, I guess. Very fuzzy, the castle glowing all gold under the sparkle of unseen stars. Always night here, for some reason.

...I don’t know how much time has passed. Trying not to think about it. 

(My eyes itch.)

I could try tracking time by how many Nightmares I’ve eaten. But that seems a little morbid. At the very least. 

Doesn’t help that I can’t really remember how many I’ve eaten, at this point. I get hungry, I go on a hunt. Simple as that. 

Not eating for a while, or eating _just_ granola bars...

(Blood on my hands. Where am I? Where did I wake up?)

Yeah. Never ends well. Best to eat the Nightmares without a fuss. No matter how cute they may look. 

Flex my fingers. My gloved, clawed fingers. Covered in Dark Suit and green blood. 

Mmm. 

I glance over, at my companion ghost. The fragment of a reflection, always in the corner of my eye. Riku, or Riku Replica. As this body should be. 

My eyes itch as the ghost seemingly nods at me. Gone after I try to focus on him.

...It’s very possible that I’m going insane. 

Very. Possible. 

But my hands are covered in Nightmare blood and I’m just gonna go clean that off now. 

Before I think about this for too long. 

Good thing there is some water nearby. Behind the castle. Good enough to clean in, but a place to avoid otherwise. 

Dark waters that shimmer with the lights nearby, but somehow only manages to reflect me in it clearly. More Dream nonsense, clearly. 

I kneel to dip my hands in, careful not to look at my reflection. To meet its not-mine teal eyes, to trace along that scarless face. Not me, not me. 

The eyes of the ghost that shouldn’t be real, shouldn’t be following me. 

(If it is.)

The green flakes off, vanishes without a trace. Without very much effort on my part at all to get it off. Now that my hands are clean again...

Reach up with my fingers, to trace along my eyes. Resist the urge to dig into my scars, my fingers currently have claws. That would be bad on multiple levels. 

The ghost tilts his head. Fuzzy, begging me to focus on him. To look at him. 

I very clearly do not move my head in that direction. 

Man, I really hate this. I really need to get out of here. 

But I have no idea how. Due to the mist always leading me back. As well as the secondary problem of my heart feeling like it’s gonna tear itself in two everytime I try to Corridor out. Very painful. 

The Nightmares can blip in and out. Why can’t I?

I’m...hands flex. Trapped. 

Trapped in the fricking _Land of Departure._ Dream-style. Going insane. Dream-style. 

Away from Namine, away from everyone else and anyone who could possibly help me. 

“Oh man.”

Well, this could be worse. Probably. Somehow. 

...I don’t really want to figure out how this could be worse. That could go down some pretty dark rabbit holes. Especially in a universe where falling asleep forever is the _least_ of really Bad Endings someone could get. 

Distraction, please. 

I start scratching words into the ground. Dig my index finger into the exposed mud. Time for the acronym game again. It’s Kingdom Hearts, it’s classic, I’ve got to fiddle around. Plus thinking about words will mean not thinking about Namine missing me, or how I don’t know will happen to the Guide now that Castle Oblivion is gone...

**User-X**

Not bad. Like that one. 

**Surex**

Hmmm. Not sure. 

**Sexur**

Ha! That’s terrible! Mansex levels of bad!

Kinda sucks that there’s no one here to talk to. Ghosts and Nightmares don’t count. 

“What, exactly, are you doing?”

I almost jump out of my own skin. “What the holy bean-!?”

Oh no. Oh _no._

I _know_ that _voice._

Of course he’s here. What else did I expect?

* * *

There is much to learn, on his journey. 

Xehanort has already learned so much, but those pieces of knowledge are mere steps towards the future that he knows awaits him. 

Curious, how a World can exist in two places at once. One in the Realm of Light, the “real” World. Another reflected into the Realm of Darkness, a mere Dream. 

It must surely be possible to split a World _actually_ in two, two “real” Worlds instead of a reflection and its origin. 

How should he go about figuring out how to do that...?

There’s a Dream World up ahead. One unfamiliar to him yet...not. Hm. 

Perhaps he should investigate. There is time to. 

Simple enough to wake through the protective bubble. A Dream World only traps Sleepers and Dream Eaters. All others are free to wander, should they know the correct paths. 

Xehanort steps out into starlight fields. A castle, lit by golden light. A place full of Light. 

Reminding him of...Eraqus. 

(“Hey, come find me at the Land of Departure.”)

Xehanort sighs. He rolls one shoulder and then the other. Fine, he’ll check this place. Then leave. As soon as possible. 

He doesn’t need old memories holding him back. 

The Nightmares are weaker here than the ones he normally observes. All fairly common as well. Perhaps Xehanort should have not chosen to stop here. 

He is learning nothing new. 

Almost done. Going around to the back, there’s something there. Feeling Dark. Familiar. Squatting next to the water. Is that...silver hair? Like his. 

Xehanort recognizes them right away as they rise to their feet. 

_Ruse._

He instantly moves closer, careful to keep to his same steady pace. How is she different in this time? How is she the same?

Less scars, it seems. But it’s hard to tell, since...well, less skin is showing and he can barely manage to catch the right side of her face. She’s wearing that old jacket of hers, and her Dark Suit is different from the one he knows. And _that_ doesn’t exist yet, as well. 

She jolts, turns. “Aaah! What the holy bean-!?”

Her eyes are blue. Why are they blue?

Hm. 

Xehanort glances at the ground where Ruse had been squatting. At the...words sketched into the dirt. 

“Why are you writing...‘Sex-ur?’”

“It’s pronounced ‘sexier’!” Ruse objects. 

“That does not answer my question.” Makes the situation worse, possibly. 

Ruse shuffles her feet, looking up at the sky. Not meeting his eyes. “Um...I was not expecting you, or anyone really, to see that. Just...kinda bored, you know?”

“You’re writing about sex in the dirt.” Surprisingly unsurprising. 

“Erm, kind of. Maybe we should stop talking about this.” Ruse rubs the words out with her boot, hands behind her back. 

A good move. 

“So what number meeting is this for you? How many times have we met?” Ruse bounces, leaning forward and back. 

Xehanort almost blinks at the sudden change in subject. He goes with it. Better this than the previous topic. “This will be the third.”

“Oh really?” A smile. “It’s my third meeting too! Three for three, isn’t that fun?”

“Fun is not the word I would use to describe such a coincidence.”

“I see... Ruse sticks out her tongue, huffing out a breath. Teasing, like she always has. She hasn’t changed at all. Or will change, it seems. 

There’s something almost...comforting about that. That at least one individual he runs into on his travels will remain unchanging at the core, no matter how much time may pass. Or what physical changes they may go through. 

A gurgling growl. 

Xehanort knows her _at least_ well enough to place the sound. He lifts an eyebrow at her sheepish face. 

“Er, sorry? Need some more food.” Ruse moves off to the side, hands making useless searching motions. Useless when everything is stored In-Between. “Um, do you need something too, Xehanort?”

Xehanort considers. “No.”

Ruse raises an eyebrow at _him._ “Sure. But I’ve got granola bars if you want anything.”

“I am aware of that.” _Incredibly_ aware of that. 

Anyone who spends a half-way decent amount of time around Ruse becomes aware of her tendency of offering food to everyone around her. As well as her tendency to always be eating _something._

“Hmm. I’m going to go...hunt Nightmares, then.”

Nightmares...it would not hurt to gain more information on them. And how Ruse interacts with them as well, at this time. 

“Very well. I’ll join you.”

Ruse tilts her head. “Ah? Really? Um, okay, just...I dunno. Fine.” 

She moves on ahead, leaving her back completely exposed to him.

...Only their third meeting and she thinks nothing of being so careless. 

How in the worlds does something like her exist?

Due to the Darkness her cracked Heart leaks and absorbs in turns, there is absolutely no possible way for her to be accepted alongside the Forces of Light. Without that factor, her constant curiosity about Darkness would doom her in their eyes. 

Yet she still seeks out to protect those who don’t deserve it. 

(Trusts _him._ )

A proper existence, to Ruse, is one full of the Dark all other Keyblade Warriors reject. 

One that his own...Xehanort shifts his head in the slightest of motions. Pushing the memories back. 

No, perhaps his first impression is wrong. The Ruse of this now is naive, unaware of how rejection lies ahead. That no matter how she devotes herself to the Path of the Guardian, to the protection of others, those of the Light will push her aside. 

Of what she will become, in the future ahead. 

(“Ha, do you think they’ll want a _monster?_ Cuz that’s me, now.”)

That’s alright. For now. But when things fall apart and they will, as he knows from his own experience...well, Xehanort will be there to pick up the pieces. 

That is the purpose for his existence, is it not?

* * *

Young Xehanort is _here._ Following me around here. 

Isn’t that just _fantastic?_

I’m...I dunno. I’m hungry. And that much I can deal with, even if Xehanort’s stalking me in the process. Nightmare hunt!

Doesn’t take very much time at all to track down one, the Nightmares don’t really bother hiding themselves. I find a lizardy Hebby Repp in almost time at all. Full size, not super small like the Pricklemare from earlier. Enough to fill me properly, good. 

Ambush time! Easy enough, to sneak up behind and bash it as hard as I can. Squish squish, blood all over the grass. 

But none on Xehanort. Should I be happy or sad about that? 

My claws lengthen and sharpen, ready to cut. 

More than a little awkward, cutting apart my to-be meal with Xehanort at my shoulder. He doesn’t say anything, only watching with those yellow yellow eyes. Heartless eyes. 

Observing my every move, every gush of unnatural blood, without a flinch. 

Maybe I shove the chunks of the beast down my gullet more violently than I need to. Chew way too loud for any reasonable person’s tastes. Maybe. 

Still no response, Xehanort still watching me. Unfortunately. 

That’s no fun. 

“Hebby Repps are always a little chewy,” I complain to my companion, once the last of the weird scaly Nightmare slides down my throat. Sweet, like everything else so far. With a touch of spice. Not my favorite, but that might because of the stupid things’ attempts to set me on Fire if they notice me. 

(Eeerrr, fire.)

“Have you always known what the Nightmares are called?” Xehanort inquires, almost pleasantly if the tone weren’t so flat.

I open my mouth to answer and it just...hangs there. Open. Because I didn’t, did I? I never really memorized any names of Dream Eaters from the game, other than the Kormey Bat thing that Riku carried around (I think). 

Who does that?

But how do I know their names? When did I start?

“Uh...I ate it, I think. I knew after.” After eating the first...hm, incorpulating the info somehow through consumption? That’s what Replicas do, I think, supposed to do, but Xion was doing it without physically eating Roxas or Sora. 

Wouldn’t that be weird if she did...ah, no need to go down that train of thought. Along that road lies cannibalism. 

(Am I a cannibal? No, bad thoughts.)

“Hm,” Xehanort hms, leaning back. “Could you possibly do the same with Dreams themselves, not only Nightmares?”

“I...don’t know. Never tried.” My index finger drags along the lines of my scars as I think. Never really paid attention to the mobile game, but wasn’t there something about Chirithies eating the Nightmares of the Dandelions, to erase memories of the Keyblade War? If I’m a Dream Eater like a Chirithy, like Mosh claimed...frick, I need to know more about Chirithies.

Maybe I should have paid more attention to that game after all. Too late. 

“Sooo...” I tap my fingers on the grass, leaning back on my elbows. A totally helpless pose, look at me, there’s no way I can break my shield out. 

Other than to break ankles, of course, haha. But why would I do that?

“A reason for why you’re sticking around would be nice.”

The baby Xehanort has plenty of evil things to do, after all. He’s got Riku to mess with, Sora to attempt possessing, worlds to cut in two. 

Not...staying here. With me. 

Xehanort, of all things to do, settles down on the grass next to me. 

Wait, what?

My eyes itch. Scratch around them. 

“You could say...I am curious. Paired with your tendency to trip into trouble, there will be plenty for me to learn about the Realm of Dreams if I track you.”

To learn. Huh. Guess this is before Dream Drop Distance, wonder how much he knows. 

Stare up at the stars. Too fuzzy to form any constellations I know, yet somehow producing enough light that I can see Xehanort’s face pretty clearly. 

He seems serious. But he’s a serious type. More like...serious enough about what he’s saying that he won’t end up killing me.

...Not that he can kill me yet, I’m pretty sure. This is the third meeting, after all, and for the time thingy to go the way it’s supposed to, I need to live to make the second and first. Young Xehanort is _all_ about making time and Fate go the right way. 

That, more than anything, leads me to my decision. 

I sit upright. Meet him in the eye. 

“Hm. Okay. But if you're sticking around...” I grin. A little sheepishly. “Well, kinda stuck here. Mind helping a girl out?”

Xehanort huffs, the first sign of actual real emotion I’ve gotten out of him. 

“Very well. That will be simple enough.”

He rises to his feet, all elegant and princess-like. Not a single grass stain on his coat. 

Man, he’s _awful._

I should probably punch him. Because of the terrible stuff he’s probably already done, will do in the future. 

Not because I’m jealous about how he doesn’t seem to have a wet butt and doesn’t almost fall over getting up, like I do. Not at all. 

Stupid slick grass. 

Straighten out my hoodie, brush off the grass. Tug my dumb skirt into place. Itchy eyeballs, don’t itch. “We doing this now, then?”

“Why not?” Xehanort decides. 

Hm, well, that’s fast. Bit quicker than I expected. 

Xehanort doesn’t seem very keen on staying in the Land of Departure. Which gives no info whatsoever, on if he’s been here before. To see Eraqus, right. Hmm. 

...Or did that happen only when Ven showed up? Man, I don’t know _anything_ about Xehanort’s past. 

...That might possibly bite me in the butt. Possibly. 

Xehanort sticks out his hand. The world around us shivers, music skipping, as a Dark Hole _tears_ itself into existence. 

He steps towards it. I hesitate. Should I...?

Ha, I don’t really have a choice. Either stay here forever or go with him. 

“Let’s get out of here.”

* * *

Within the Castle That Never Was lies a room. A room where only one Nobody is allowed to enter. Inside that room, is a sleeping boy. 

Ventus. 

_His his his._ The boy is his. As the Organization and everyone in it is his. 

Xemnas’ and Xemnas’ alone. 

The glass star the boy has on his person...is familiar. 

Xemnas takes out his own, his orange star contrasting with green glass. A constant companion, from his day as an apprentice of Ansem the Wise. 

Kept hidden, for he knew his ally Braig would have urged him to toss it aside. Most of the then-Xehanort would have agreed with him. 

Yet...some part of him cannot let go. Keeps the star at hand. 

“What does it mean?”

Useless. Ventus sleeps, never to answer. 

Why does he bother? Xemnas should make the boy one of his own, since there is neither Heart nor Will to resist him. 

Metal edges dig into leather, almost ripping through it. The star. 

No. Not yet. 

Make Kingdom Hearts his own first. That is his goal, is it not?

Also.

That Heart he discovered. Not Ventus’, but who’s? Someone vital, to have their Heart stored within the Chamber of Waking itself. 

“Another connection.”

Very well. That is what he will do, this day. Study his newest possession. There is certainly time for it. 

“I will be back, Ventus,” he says out loud to a boy who cannot hear him. Gets up, to leave. 

Useless. 

Yet...like the star, there is an urge to. 

There are multiple labs in the Castle That Never Was. The majority of them go unused now, with their owners being deceased. 

Xemnas’ private one still sees some use. More frequent use, with the Heart being stored there to investigate and examine. 

Several qualities of note. 

First, the Heart pulses at the touch. Almost warm, warm enough to feel through his gloves. Still alive.

An incomplete Memory Chain. Much of it appears to be missing, which will make it extremely difficult to discover the identity of this Heart. 

The Heart is small. Young. Formerly of a child, following the line of past calculations Xemnas made in the past, as an Apprentice. How...interesting. Very interesting. 

Lastly and most importantly...

“The degree of crystalized Will, the strength of this Heart...another wielder of the Keyblade,” he muses. 

Now, to put that information to use. Xemnas does not need another Keyblade wielder, not when Roxas serves so very willingly. 

He has never needed two, not where one will do. 

The simplest way to go about this would be to allow this Heart to join his Kingdom Hearts. 

A wasteful method. One single Heart, when he could possibly get more use out of it. 

His fingers tap against the glass container. The Heart pulses back. 

What to do, what to do...

“Used for fuel...” he muses out loud, “That must be why this Heart was preserved in such a fashion.” Hooked up next to Ventus, stored in the safest location in Castle Oblivion. Used to fuel the Castle’s defenses themselves. 

Xemnas has no need to do the same, of course. That is what Kingdom Hearts is for, full of power. 

Yet...there had been some form of intellect in redirecting him away from the Room of Waking. Intellect possibly connected to this Heart, since having a Memory Chain serves as sign enough that the Heart could reason. 

If given a mind to reason with, of course. 

Hearts are unreliable things, difficult to control yet easy to direct.

A Heart without a complete Memory...Xemnas will have power over that. Memories are easy to change, to manipulate. 

Xemnas smiles. 

Why, there are still notes on the Replica Project, aren’t there? 

Why not do something with them?

“Another piece to add to the board. How useful.”

* * *

Something’s different and Roxas has no idea what. 

Well, he rarely seems to get what’s going on. But this seems more...specific, somehow. Than the usual not-knowing. 

Something that he _should_ know but for some reason, doesn’t. But what?

Whatever it is...Axel doesn’t know. His friend’s busy right now too, leaving Roxas to do...whatever. 

Twilight Town is nice. Better with a friend, but still nice without one. 

What to do, what to do...

“Get more ice cream,” Roxas determines, nodding to himself. Yeah, that he can do. 

Three bars of Sea Salt Ice Cream...maybe that was too much. But he’s already on his last one, so maybe it’s not. 

(Why three? Only he and Axel get ice cream...)

It doesn’t matter. He’s on the last one, remember? Delicious. 

“Hello!”

Roxas looks over to the side. Hm. Other kids? Somebody kids. He should have gone up to the tower right away, but...the ice cream is just so delicious, he had to stop to eat some. 

A girl with brown hair, a boy with brown hair, and a boy with yellowish hair like Roxas’ own. They stop a foot away from him, good. 

“Hey, do you know someone called Riku?” one of the kids asks carefully. 

Riku? Familiar name. But... “No. I don’t.” Why would they think he knows a Riku?

“Oh, okay.” 

The three crowd around each other, whispering.

Roxas _could_ listen in. He doesn’t, choosing to chew at his ice-cream instead. 

“Sea salt ice cream, that’s the best kind!” The yellow-haired kid suddenly says. “Maybe we should get some too!”

The girl puts her hands on her hips. “Do you have any munny, Hayner?”

Hayner scratches at his head. “...Uh, do you?”

The dark-haired boy laughs. “You never change.”

“Hey, I paid for snacks last time, Pence! It’s your turn!”

“But I don’t have any munny either!”

Roxas isn’t exactly sure why he speaks up at this point. He offers, “I have some. If you want ice cream.”

The girl smiles at him, shaking her head. “That’s very nice of you, but I have some. Thank you for helping.”

“Pretty nice of you,” Pence says, putting his hands behind his head. “What’s your name?”

Should he give them his name? He’s not supposed to talk to Somebodies. But no one’s here, no one will know. 

“...Roxas.”

“Cool. I’m Pence, that’s Hayner, and she’s Olette.” Pence points out each person in order of their name. 

“Want to hang out?” Hayner asks.

Hang out? “What does that mean?”

The kids all exchange glances and Pence explains, “Just be around each other. Talk.”

Roxas considers. He doesn’t have anything else and...he glances at his ice cream-less stick. No Winner. 

“Okay,” he agrees, “I’ll do that.”

Hayner pumps his fist up and down almost violently. “Sweet! We got to check out that corner...”

“The one with the ghost that we still haven’t seen,” Olette says almost pointedly. 

“Right...but maybe with Roxas, we’ll find it,” Pence suggests. 

The trio turns to him eagerly. “Wanna come?”

Nothing else. 

“Okay, I’ll come.” His chest...is warm at the thought. Strange. But it’s a good warm. He’ll come. 

“Great! Race you there!” Hayner runs on ahead. 

“Hayner! Wait up!” The other two yell after him, breaking out into a run themselves. 

Roxas...Roxas follows after them. 

His cheeks hurt. 

Is he...smiling?

Is this what smiling is? Whatever is...he likes it. He’ll do it again, keep doing it. 

Roxas can’t be friends with Somebodies, but he can be around them. 

As long as no one finds out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm.  
> As you can probably guess at this point, KH2 is going to look *very* different from its canon form. I'm not very interested in strictly following Sora's KH2 adventures (not my fav game, actually), so frankly, a lot of focus will be on the implied background events of that game. Organization, Namine-Xion stuff, other...  
> Sora will be involved, it'll just be...different. That's all.


	40. Detriment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sora gets his story started, Vexen (Even?) schemes, Xion eats, and our Hero finally gets hit by the Consequence Bat. 
> 
> (Don't forget: Xehanort lies.)

_ “Who are you?” Blue eyes looking into his. “We’ve never met...have we?” _

_ “My name is-” _

Sora wakes with a gasp, air rushing into his lungs. His body shakes as he gets his bearings. Like he’s just woken up from a super long nap. 

His clothes are...short on him. Did he grow in his sleep?

That’s...not supposed to happen. Right?

“Be careful!” Donald squawks as Sora stumbles, legs like jelly. Jiggly and all over the place.

“Whoa!”

“Careful there.” Goofy catches him before he falls over for sure. Out of the weird white flower he woke up in. Not a bed at all. 

“Thanks, Goofy. Uh, where are we?”

“Hm, this looks like Disney Castle!” Jiminy chirps, hopping down to the floor and steadying his hat. The cricket looks around, more than a little confused. Just like the rest of them. “But how did we ever get here?”

“Yeah, last thing I remember...we were looking for Riku.”

“And the King!” His companions add loudly. 

“Yeah, him too.” Sora looks around at the tall ceilings, how  _ clean  _ everything is. Bright too, not like the Realm of Darkness at all. “Are they here too?”

“My husband is not here for the moment and neither is Riku,” says...another mouse. A Disnian in a pink dress and crown. 

Donald and Goofy nearly fall over themselves to bow. “Your Majesty!” They chorus. 

A Queen? That makes sense, if there’s a King too. 

“So if they aren’t here, where are they?” Sora presses. 

The Queen pauses. “I’m not certain, but they are safe for the moment.”

“That’s good.” Sora’s shoulders slump as a weight he didn’t know he had suddenly lifts away. 

The Queen turns. “There’s someone who wants to see you.”

She gestures to...someone else. Not Disnian, human. 

There’s a girl in a white skirt and blue shirt, standing there. She’s pale and blond and something about her reminds Sora of....starlight. Starlight and nights on the islands. 

He’s never seen her before in his life. 

But she seems familiar anyway. 

“Do I know you?”

The girl looks away. “Not anymore.”

Goofy and Donald both shake their heads when Sora turns to them. 

Sora blinks. How she said that... “But I  _ did  _ know you?” he checks. 

The girl shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Sora frowns. “It does to me.”

She laughs. “Of course it does,” she says, sounding on the verge of tears, “Why wouldn’t it, with you?”

Uh, what does he do? The only person worse with crying girls than Sora is Riku!

“Excuse me, miss, your name wouldn’t happen to be Naminé, would it?” Jiminy asks. 

The girl looks surprised. “Yes, it is. How did you know that?”

Jiminy coughs into his fist. He flips open his Journal. “Well, there’s only two words left in here and they say: Thank Naminé.”

The girl’s eyes widen. “Oh!”

“Well, if Jiminy wrote that down, it must be important,” Donald says, tapping his beak. 

The three exchange looks with each other before moving as one. 

Dipping into deep bows. 

“Thank you, Naminé!”

“Oh,” Naminé says again, quieter. Her eyes are shiny as she presses a hand against her mouth. “Oh.”

A feeling in Sora’s Heart...he steps forward and wraps his arms around her in a hug. “Thank you,” he whispers into her ear. His cheeks are wet, for some reason. His Heart is full. Warm.

“You’re welcome.” His shoulder feels wet and Naminé’s shaking in his hug. 

Worried, Sora lets go and steps back. “You’re crying! I’m sorry!”

Naminé shakes her head. “No, no, I’m fine. Just...I’m happy I could help you.”

Her smile is brighter than any star could ever hope to be. 

“Before you leave on your journey...” The Queen smiles, spreading her arms. “Will you come have breakfast with us?”

Sora’s stomach gurgles.  _ Really  _ loudly. “Yeah, that sounds really good,” he agrees. 

“Just this way.” One gloved hand points down the hall. 

Donald and Goofy lead the way, of course. Just as eager as Sora is to get some food. 

“I’ll just ride along, don’t mind me,” Jiminy decides, jumping back onto Sora’s shoulder. 

“Of course.” Same as before. 

Sora races after the rest of the team. “Wait for me!”

“Hurry up!” Donald calls back. 

Inside the dining room, there’s a long table with white cloth draped over it. Like one of those pictures in a fairytale. Just like the rest of this castle. 

Lots of food sits on it, eggs, bacon, fruit...all kinds of breakfast food. Even pancakes! Pancakes shaped like the King’s head.

Also...

Another girl, sitting at that table. She’s the opposite of Naminé in almost every way, wearing bright red and having black hair. Her skin is as tan as his. Well, tanner because he hasn’t been out in the sun for a while. Something about her almost reminds him of his...dad in the way she looks. Like Sora does, according to his mom. 

They could be related, but they aren’t. Because Sora only has his mom left and she says they don’t have any other relatives living near the islands. 

But maybe...he forgot having a cousin? It’s kind of scary having forgotten important stuff once. Because Sora doesn’t know what he’s forgotten and what if he doesn’t remember his friends? 

He’ll check. Just in case. If they’ve met. 

“Have we met before?”

* * *

Oh.  _ Oh.  _ So that’s Sora.

Xion didn’t know exactly what she was expecting of Roxas’ Somebody, but he’s...somehow different from she imagined. 

Even with her having his memories before. 

He doesn’t look like Roxas at all. Brown instead of blond and his face is different. 

More like hers. Is it supposed to be like this? Xion...doesn’t know. 

She might never know. 

“Have we met before?” The Somebody asks her, after settling down in the chair next to her.

Breakfast always happens at a long table, the Queen insists. It’s...interesting, to see everyone eating together. Different from the Organization where Xion’s only ever seen Axel and Roxas eat anything. 

Now there’s Sora and Donald and Goofy. All together at the same table, picking out their foods. 

She still knows their names, if even they’re no longer her memories, as strange as it seems. It’s...Xion doesn’t know what she feels about that.

Xion looks down at her hands in her lap. Truthfully? “We’ve never met.”

“Oh, that’s good! I thought I could’ve forgot someone else too!” Sora beams. Too bright, the exact opposite of Roxas. 

“No, you haven’t.” Just...everyone else. 

Sora nods at that, looking...thoughtful. He reaches over to pull over some “eggs” and “pancakes” in front of him. 

There’s silence, except for chewing. 

Xion turns to her meal, poking in her spoon. 

Sora leans over, squinting at it. “What are you eating? Looks like...rainbow rice?”

Xion takes a moment to examine her meal herself. Mogjiro, the Moogle around here, had been pretty helpful after taking a look at Xion at DiZ’s insistence. Something about how the Mouse King had been talking to Moogles about Replicas and if Xion was a Replica, she needed to do that too. 

Like Ruse had with Mosh in the Underworld. 

Shattered Materia shards, with “secret” ingredients mixed in according to Mogjiro to make the rocky chunks softer. Looks like a rainbow for sure. 

“I guess it’s kind of like that...but you shouldn’t have any.” Xion puts a spoonful in her mouth. An explosion of a bunch of different flavors erupts in her mouth. 

Filling, tasty. 

“So it’s not rice? What is it? What’s it called?” Sora leans over further, until he’s almost falling out of his chair in the process. 

“Striate,” comes Naminé’s voice from across the table. Oh, she must have come in after Sora. Xion should have paid better attention to that. 

She shrinks down as Sora and Xion look over at her. “That’s what it’s called,” she whispers. 

Xion nods. “Yeah, that’s right. Thank you.” She then watches in muted fascination as Naminé’s face glows pink as she ducks nearly completely under the tablecloth. 

“ _ Oh!”  _ Sora breathes from next to her. 

Oh what? Xion looks over. “Hm?”

He’s grinning at her. Even wider than before, if that’s possible. “She  _ likes  _ you!” he announces. 

Across the table comes a loud squeak. 

Likes her? Xion almost frowns. They haven’t talked at all, much...why would Naminé want to be her friend? She’s not special anymore, not when there’s other people with the Keyblade. 

Who are better with the Keyblade than her. 

Roxas and Axel are her friends, of course. But they  _ know  _ her, got to know her through missions and ice cream. She hasn’t done that with Naminé. 

There’s no reason that Naminé should want to know her. Not really. 

“She does? But we’re not friends.”

“Really? Do you want to be friends with her?” Sora looks curious. He’s smiling again. Always smiling. 

Xion thinks about it, twisting her hands around each other. So strange to see bare fingers without gloves on. Does she want to be friends with Naminé?

“...Maybe,” she settles on. “She’s said nice things before.”

“You’re smiling, so it must have been really nice,” Sora agrees. 

Oh, she is? Xion touches her fingers up to her lips.Turned up into a smile...so she is. 

“Sora, we need to get going!” Donald calls out. At least...that’s what Xion  _ thinks  _ that’s what he's saying. Kind of hard to understand him. 

“We’ve got to see Master Yen Sid,” Goofy agrees. 

“Oh right!” Sora gets up so fast he nearly knocks his own chair over. He waves at her and then Naminé. “See you both later! Hope you can be friends!”

With that, he bounds off after the Disnians. 

Naminé gets up suddenly. Her entire glow is pink, Xion can’t help but notice, but her cheeks are bright red now. 

“I’ll...see you later?” Naminé poses. 

“I will.” Xion agrees. Of course she’ll see Naminé later, they’re staying here together after all. She watches, slightly puzzled, as a squawk escapes Naminé. The Nobody nearly runs into the doorframe leaving the room. 

“That was strange.”

Xion returns to her meal, her Striate. Still filling, almost better than other meals she’s had in the past. 

Tastes good. 

But never as good as sea salt ice cream.

* * *

Outside of the strange bubble that was the Land of Departure Dreamland...everything seems so very dark and hard to see in. 

Not for long, the longer I wander around in it, the easier it is to see things. Kind of interesting, since I thought the Realm of Darkness was supposed to be...well,  _ dark.  _ Almost a letdown that I can see. But a pleasant one because it would be a total pain to wander around cluelessly. 

Xehanort would probably abandon me, really. He’s that kind of person after all, a help-yourself-or-die asshole. That’s the impression I got from the games, at least. 

I’m less certain about  _ this  _ Xehanort who got me out of Dreamland and is letting me follow after him. What’s he up to?

Along with the Riku-looking ghost up next to him. But as long as I don’t look in that direction, everything’s fine. He doesn’t exist. Everything’s fine. 

...Yeah, that’s not going to work forever, is it? Well, it works for now. 

Around us, as we walk, the environment changes. Shifts from pure black to a grey and black mix. Grey eventually becomes white. Streaks in the air, almost like the heat waves you see sketched out in comics. 

“This is new. Wonder what this is?” I tap at my chin. “Shouldn’t everything look the same? This is the Realm of Darkness after all...where are the Heartless? How’s this connected to the place we just left?” 

Everything is so very strange. Of every place in Kingdom Hearts, the Realm of Darkness seems the most mysterious. It’s where the Heartless, mooks of every game, come from as well as a place that seems to stop time from passing. At least in Aqua’s ten year case. 

All of the other Worlds follow visible rules, storylines. The Realm of Darkness? Who knows. Just...mystery. 

Xehanort side-glances me, in a sort of attempted mental shoulder-to-the-gut. There’s no other way I can describe the facial movement he does, other than that. 

“Are you sure to want to know? You might be better off in ignorance.”

Sounds like a warning of some kind. Good thing I don’t follow those!

I wave a hand. “Give me a little bit at a time. I’ll figure stuff out from there. I know we were in a Dream back there, I want to know more. Mind sharing?”

Something relaxes about Xehanort’s shoulders.

“Currently we are in areas closer to the Realm of Light,” he starts to explain, “Dream Worlds are reflections of Worlds in the Realm of Light, usually. Until a World “sinks” deeper into Darkness, that Dream remains nothing more than a reflection.”

I think back to how the Dream Eaters were all super small. Small enough to be a mouthful. As well as no people around, unlike Dream Drop Distance. 

“Ah, that’s why I was the only one there.” I frown, scratching at my scars. “But I thought Castle Oblivion fell into the Realm of Darkness...so it shouldn’t be like that.”

Xehanort hums thoughtfully. “Tell me, did it fall all at once or piece by piece?”

Recalling the scene, how Riku and I ran through and almost fell off several times until I fell for  _ real...  _ “Piece by piece,” I decide.

“That Dream could be a fragmented reflection of only  _ part  _ of the World, instead of the entirety.”

“Hm, that makes sense. Oh!” I smash my fist into my palm, as a blinding moment of realization grabs me. “Hollow Bastion...the same thing must have happened to it! That’s why part of that World exists as Hollow Bastion now.”

Xehanort narrows his eyes briefly. “What?”

“Well, its  _ real  _ name is...gone. Can’t say it or anything, so it’s now called Hollow Bastion,” I explain. “But that World fell into Darkness ten years ago...but Hollow Bastion existed separately despite that somehow. Maybe it’s because of what you were talking about, with fragments.”

I tap my chin. “In fact...maybe you should go there. See if it’s the same, and tell me.”

“Hmmm.” He appears deep in thought. “Perhaps I shall, once I am done here. A missing name...”

“Anyway, you were saying something about “sinking”?” I prompt. 

Xehanort’s cheeks darken. “It’s...not the most elegant of comparisons, yet I find myself seeing the Realm of Darkness much like the ocean. Deeper and Darker in some parts than others, full of beings beyond our comprehension. Ridiculous, I know.”

“Darkness is like the ocean, hm?” I look at our surroundings, the curling of black and white. Strips of opposites curling and waving, weaving into reality itself. 

A stream flowing around us. A current, hinting at Darker depths. 

I smile. 

“I can see that. Sounds good to me.”

I reach out, to touch one of the strings. Tug at one. 

A gloved hand closes around my wrist, pulling me away. Releasing me as soon as the strings flow away out of reach. 

“It’s dangerous to touch pure Nothingness,” Xehanort warns. 

Nothingness, huh? Like with Nobodies. My fingers scratch at my cheek. 

“Gonna erase me, huh. Or something like that...if this is the Realm of Darkness, then why is this all here? Isn’t Nothingness a separate thing from pure Darkness?”

At least that’s what Kingdom Hearts II claimed. But that never really made much sense to me...like Xemnas’ powers. 

“Nothingness is a boundary material.” Xehanort’s eyes gleam as he tilts his head up, taking in the sight of the surrounding Nothingness current. “It rises where Light and Dark meet, a uniquely dangerous material as a result of the two opposing forces mixing.”

His hand lazily waves at the mess we’re in. 

“When traveling the Realm of Darkness in places near the Realm of Light, Nothingness is inevitably encountered.”

I clap my hands. “Oh! So it’s like sea foam! If we’re keeping this ocean metaphor going...”

Xehanort looks at me, face flat. “Perhaps you should let go of the metaphor.”

I grin. “Never!” Can I make him crack?

He sighs. Deeply. “Very well.” Starts walking, no other response. 

Hm. I’ll have to up my game! I rush after him. 

Ah, a thought. A good one. Since Xehanort here’s with working Corridors...

“Hey, can you get me back to the Realm of Light?” I wiggle my fingers like the streaks of Nothingness. “Since this stuff means Light and Dark are touching.  _ Somewhere. _ ”

Need to get back to Naminé, to everyone else. My Heart hurts. Aching and burning. 

My hand claws at my chest. Too much. 

“I need to get out of here,” I say. Very calmly. Anyone who says differently is lying. 

Xehanort eyes me. “It would not be a World of your choosing nor mine, should I tear open a path here.”

“That’s fine.” I’m shaking. Not a lot, not yet. “Just...anywhere should be good. I can find my way back from there.”

Xehanort inclines his head just barely. Just enough for me to see him making the motion. “If you are certain.”

“Yep, I am.”

“Very well.”

There’s a sound and not-a-sound at the same time, as a hole  _ rips  _ itself into the air right in front of me. I step through, right after Xehanort does. 

Better safe and sorry. 

I don’t even get time to do anything but register how  _ bright  _ everything is when- Feels like a lightning bolt right through my chest. A pounding dizziness. 

“Ruse?  _ Ruse.” _

Liquid dripping from my mouth. Tastes...coppery. Something dripping from my ears too, and my head  _ pounds.  _

-y h-a--t do-- t-o.

Som--hi-ng’s -ro-g --th m-.

A -and p-lls m- a-d---

“ _ Sleep.” _

Huh? Everything’s going pretty dark...I blink and the fuzziness at the edges of my vision goes away. A little. Kind of?

We’re back in the vaguely familiar Realm of Darkness, it seems. 

I’m on the ground. When did that happen? Shouldn’t stay there. 

“Shit...what was that?” My chest burns...but not as much as it just was. Not enough to incapacitate me like before. “Felt like...dying.”

“Because you were.” 

“What?” I look up at Xehanort, pushing myself up onto my feet. Sway a bit in the process. “From what? Am I dying right now?”

Hm, that doesn’t seem quite right, actually. 

Scratch at my cheek. Near the scars of my first near-death experience. “Well, I guess technically everyone’s always dying...but am I dying faster than usual?”

Xehanort’s face does a weird twitch. 

“What?”

“Your Heart nearly collapsed, taking your Soul and your physical heart with it.” Xehanort narrows his eyes. “You should not try to leave the Realm of Darkness until that is no longer a danger.”

“What does leaving the Realm of Darkness have to do with it?” I frown. “I’m pretty sure if my Heart fell apart once, then staying here won’t make it better.”

“Time operates at a different rate in the Realm of Darkness than in the Realm of Light. Entering the Realm of Light causes time to “catch up,” so to speak.”

Ah. That makes sense. Does it? Something something Aqua, is he right? I dunno, that doesn’t seem to matter very much right now.

I nod my understanding, head bobbing up and down veery slowly. “So my Heart is  _ slowly  _ tearing apart here, but in the Realm of Light, it’ll start shredding itself faster. Makes sense. How do I fix it?”

Concerning that I’m  _ actually  _ dying. But for some reason, I can’t muster much worry about that at the moment. Feel numb, not sure why. I should be panicking, I panicked about killing Vexen and about Axel nearly killing me. 

Why not now? This is much more serious, it seems. It  _ is.  _

“What’s wrong with me?” My voice sounds like it’s coming from far away. Down a tunnel. 

My hands pat at my chest. Clumsy, hard to feel anything in my fingers. 

Like...falling asleep? Nerves all busy. 

“That would be my Sleep spell taking effect, at  _ last,”  _ Xehanort sounds annoyed for some reason. Why is he annoyed, I’m the one he cast a spell on!

I don’t want to sleep, that seems bad. For some reason. But I can’t think of why. Swaying, fall to my knees, then slip down onto my front. 

Only one thought available to think now, as my brain topples into oblivion. 

Jerk. 

* * *

Once Ruse is out, Xehanort allows an irritated gust of breath to escape his control. 

“Always so  _ foolish  _ with your health.”

To keep going at the cost of all else...an action of heroes and fools. Perhaps he ‘s thinking unfairly about this, though. She didn’t know about the delicate nature of her Heart, a bleeding thing just barely holding itself together with Darkness. 

Darkness attracts more Darkness after all. Clumps together, in the way Shadows have the potential to become Demon Towers. Like attracts like. 

Stay in the Realm of Light, and the Darkness will drag her Heart right out of her body instead of keeping it there. Forcing Ruse to become a Heartless. 

He lied to her, yes. The time shifts between Light and Dark have nothing to do with the state of her injury. What of it? 

Ruse would only panic to hear Darkness was saving her Heart. Everyone always does. 

There are some who would rather die than have anything to do with the Dark. Xehanort does not  _ think  _ Ruse is one of those individuals...but the risk of losing one’s Heart to the Dark can change the mindset quite severely. As well as the potential of losing all connection to those in the Realm of Light.

Xehanort sighs again, settling down next to the fallen body. Checking her pulse. Solid. 

As long as she  _ thinks  _ she has time, that she can find a way back to the Light...Ruse won’t panic. Will make it to her future, his past. 

Everything for the Fate that must be. 

Can he do anything about her Heart? A Keyblade is meant for locking and unlocking both the literal and metaphorical. 

None of those available options sound like a sure method for repairing a broken, bleeding Heart. 

Perhaps...Xehanort taps his fingers against her wrist.

He is not meant to fix her Heart. That is a strong possibility. Merely providing the means for a repair to occur eventually. Since he is  _ almost  _ certain Ruse’s Heart did not bleed like this, during their past meetings. 

Almost. 

With green stains all over her face, and the stillness of that same face...Ruse looks almost like a corpse. A particularly demented corpse. 

He sighs. Again. 

(“Sleeping Realm Moogles know stuff about Dream Eaters. Ask them if trouble comes up.”)

Though Xehanort  _ despises  _ the thought of not knowing, in this case he has to admit their knowledge on how to best assist Ruse is sparse. 

A Moogle it is. Now, where was the last one he saw...?

* * *

Even breathes. His eyes closed, he breathes to concentrate through the pain.

“I know you’re awake. Stop faking it,” the voice of a young woman speaks up.

“Yuffie, leave him be,” another woman cuts in. 

Even opens his eyes. He hisses at the sudden light, instantly slamming them shut. 

“Hey! I need to talk to him!” the first speaker argues. 

“You can do that later,” the second says firmly. 

“Later might be too late, if Leon gets here first.”

“I’ll watch.” A promise. 

“...fine.” Even can hear the stomping of feet as that woman presumably moves away from the bed he’s in. 

He keeps his eyes shut. 

A heavy breath. “When you’re ready to talk...we’ll talk,” the second speaker promises. Creaks in the floor as she moves away and the closing of a door. 

Most likely gone. Even tries opening his eyes. Slightly more manageable, this time. 

He’s...where is he?

A crowded room with medical herbs and books  _ everywhere.  _ Rugs cover the floor in a second skin. There’s a window that sits across from where he lies, where the light is coming in through. Floral curtains. 

His lab coat is gone. As is his shirt. Of course. Considering where he was injured, that’s no surprise. 

His chest aches under its wrapping of various bandages. But better than the outright burning it went through, seconds before his demise as a Nobody. 

Even needs to sit up. He thinks best upright. 

Sitting himself up is a chore, with his injuries, yet he manages it in the end. 

Breathing heavily from the process. 

Even flexes his hands. The burns sting, under the loose bandages. 

There are many tasks he has to complete, now that he has a body again. Research to conduct and finish. 

Most importantly, he needs to find his wayward Replica. 

Ruse. 

She’s the only he completed, right? Even shakes the sudden headache away. Yes, he only completed one Replica. No others. 

(Why does that not  _ feel  _ right?)

Of course, it’s possible that the Organization could create a mimicry of their own from the notes he left behind. Even wouldn’t put it past the Superior to try doing so.

Perhaps that’s it. 

For now, he will focus on the Replica he knows for  _ certain  _ exists. 

Ruse, who was in danger last time Even knew. Time’s passed since then, but the Replica is most likely still in danger, or danger-adjacent. If past events are any indication, in truth. 

And what she was feeling, before Even...left. 

He breathes in through his nose deeply. 

His hand goes to his chest, over his physical heart. Tugging at his shirt and the bandages underneath.

His heart beats a little faster remembering his last moments as a “ghost” inside Ruse’s Heart. The emotion she felt that nearly overwhelmed him. 

The  _ fear.  _ The  _ panic  _ that flooded her seeing...Xigbar. 

Even frowns. Why had she been so afraid? Ruse hadn’t been fearful often, at least when she was aware of his presence. Even of other Nobodies, Organization members that most definitely posed a threat to her ongoing existence. 

She only feared him after threatening to...trap her, after all. And Axel, after the fire. Never before, always too trusting before they hurt her. 

Yet with Xigbar...fear was her first reaction. Fleeing for her life. 

His fingers tap against his chest. Ruse had past knowledge, being a reincarnate. Ruse knew Ventus from before. Ruse panicked upon seeing Xigbar. 

How is it connected? Was it connected?

“...Ruse. What do you know?”

Tearing him and her apart, as tightly intertwined they were...will have consequences. If he is lucky, it will be only damage to his own Heart. Even is probably not that lucky. 

Also...what had torn him out of her Heart? Who had that been?

“Find who did that and I will most likely find Ruse,” Even states out loud. His fingers curl up, as his shoulders shake from the pain racking through him. 

He grits his teeth. So weak...! How  _ irritating.  _ Recovery will be necessary, no matter how slow and painful it may be. 

Time, time, there’s never really enough of it. 

Even’s dreams that night, the first proper ones he’s had in a decade, are crazy things. Bright and colorful, images both familiar and not. Almost like...memories. But not his. 

(“Hey, Braska, have you heard the one about the man who lost his left arm?”)


	41. Decentralize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which both Roxas and Riku are in the Dark (metaphorical and otherwise), Xion needs a goal, a Sudden Moogle! and our Hero really shouldn't open that door.

Xion’s not part of the Organization anymore. She’s not fighting Heartless everyday and she’s not seeing Axel and Roxas in Twilight Town. 

She bites at her lip. What is she supposed to do now?

Her hands...without her old gloves, they look awfully bare. Maybe she should get some new ones, to go with her new red and white dress. 

Xion lets out a breath.

Why bother? No one’s looking at her, judging her. 

No one cares. 

By her chair, where it overlooks the gardens belows through the window, there’s a stack of paper on a small table. Of different colors and designs. 

Daisy taught her how to fold the paper into different shapes earlier. Flowers, birds, all kinds of things that Xion has never really seen before in person. 

It’s...nice. Xion likes doing it, imagine doing the same to the files she had to fill out in the Organization. 

What is it for, though? And when is she going to do something _useful?_

When she asked Daisy that, the duck-person had looked only...sad. 

(“Some things don’t need a purpose, Xion. They’re beautiful. That’s all.”)

Xion feels...empty. 

Once she had been overflowing with memories, memories that Roxas poured into her. Full of a fire that Axel shared, one undeniable. 

They have given her so much, her friends. 

Now...

She has nothing. _They_ have nothing, if their memories are gone too. 

Selfishly, Xion hopes that’s true. Otherwise, it would mean her friends didn’t look for her and that...would hurt even more. 

She is nothing, has nothing. So very empty. 

Like...these papers she folds. Ready to fly off into the wind and disappear forever. 

“Hello? Can I come in?”

Naminé.

“Yes.” Please do. 

Lonely in here and it’s hard to muster the energy to leave. Not when there’s nothing for her to do. To wait for. 

Naminé comes in, wearing her usual white. She changes her clothes by the day, but it’s usually a skirt and shirt combo of some sort. Always with lots of white. 

Her steps delicate enough to walk on glass, Naminé moves to the chair that sits next to the table. The table where Xion’s colored papers and birds sit. 

Around Naminé’s wrist, Xion sees, is a purple cloth. 

Purple with silvery stars, wrapped around her wrist and tied in a loose knot. It _doesn’t_ look like any of the armor bandanas that you get from the Moogles...so what use is it?

What is it for?

Xion puts that aside, squinting to better look at what Naminé’s working on now in her sketchbook. 

Doodles of a golden castle. Streaks of silver and white and black, the same kind of streaks Dusks leave behind when they use Corridors. 

The biggest, most eye-catching sketch of all is that of a blue orb with circles swirling around it. Looks almost...electronic. 

“What are you drawing?”

Naminé frowns. “Just...dreams I’ve been having lately. They’re odd.” She taps her yellow color pencil against the page, before putting it down on their shared table. 

Oh, Xion didn’t know Nobodies could dream. Well, other than her and Roxas. But Axel was always quick to say they were exceptions. Is Naminé an exception too?

...Well, she did fix Sora’s memories. She probably is. 

“Naminé...why are you here?” It’s okay to be folding paper while Naminé’s drawing, but Xion has a feeling she’s here for something other than that. She has to be, if she’s seeking Xion out instead of waiting for her downstairs like usual. 

“Ruse is gone.” Naminé states. Her eyes are watery, as she says it. Like she’s going to cry again. Her fingers tug at the purple cloth. 

...There’s been a lot of crying lately. Xion can hear through the walls. With no idea what to do about it, except...she wants to _help._ Her Heart aches. 

But how?

“I want to find her. But we might need help to.”

Of course. 

Xion folds another paper crane. Better than shredding the paper all over the floor. There has to be _something_ she can do. Now that Sora’s awake and on his...whatever he’s doing. Her fingers itch. 

Time for a few suggestions, if Naminé’s looking for them. 

“The King’s busy. So is DiZ. And Riku’s...gone. Is there anyone else?” 

“There’s someone we could find, someone who _might_ be able to help us search...” Naminé bites her lip. Taps her fingers against her sketchbook. 

“Who is it?” Xion asks, on the edge of her seat. 

“Her name is...Kairi. A Princess of Heart.”

That name...

Something about it causes a shiver to run through her, right from her chest. 

“That’s the girl that Sora was looking for, isn’t it?” Xion says quietly. She finishes her crane. Perches it on the edge of her pile of papers. 

“She’s also...” Naminé’s fingers tighten around the edges of her sketchbook. “My Somebody.”

Xion purses her lips. “Oh, like Sora’s is Roxas’. Does she have a Keyblade too?”

Naminé shakes her head. “No! Not at all.”

“I wonder how you’re separate then...” From the way the other Organization members talk about their Somebodies, Xion got the impression they weren’t around anymore. Not like Roxas and Sora, or now Naminé and Kairi. 

Naminé frowns. “...I think there _was_ a Keyblade involved. But I don’t know the details.”

That must be how Naminé is an exception, just like her and Roxas. Or...just Roxas, since Xion isn’t a Nobody and never was in the first place. 

Maybe she should fold another crane. A blue flower-patterned one, this time. 

“I want to go to...Destiny Islands. And ask for her help.”

Destiny Islands. Again, another name that causes her to shiver. 

Xion...doesn’t _want_ to stay here. Doing nothing but folding paper cranes and roses. 

“I’ll go with you.”

“You will?” Naminé seems surprised, even after suggesting that Xion come with her. Expecting Xion not to accept. 

“Yes, I will.” Xion nods. She smiles. “We’ll find Ruse and Kairi, I’m sure of it.”

(“One day we’ll go to the beach. I promise.”)

A spark in her, chasing away the emptiness, the nothingness. 

Maybe this...will mean something. 

Maybe she no longer has to be empty. 

(Ruse, how did you do it? How do you live? If...)

(If you’re like me.)

* * *

Time tends to run together, in the Sleeping Realms. 

Mozme isn’t _quite_ sure how long it’s been since she’s seen the sun. Probably a super long time. 

It doesn’t matter, in the end. How much time passes. 

Everything moves in circles, in cycles. Old becomes new and then old again. 

Mozme remains, in the midst of it all. In the broken Dreams of fallen Worlds. 

Creating as she must. For the Witch. 

Her forge stays forever lit. 

Churning out weapons, training toys, the works!

Alone, alone. Only the Witch’s minions come to see Mozme but that’s alright! Mozme is okay alone!

...Hm? 

What’s that? Mozme senses...a buzz. A life, coming towards her. Two lives? 

“Hello, hello, kupo?” She calls out into the Dark. From that Dark materializes a human. A _human_ of all the things!

A human...male or female? It’s so hard to tell, they look so similar sometimes.

In a black coat...Mozme’s wings flick. Why is that so familiar?

Did she meet someone with a coat like that once? So many memories, gone now.

“Name’s Mozme, kupo! What are you here for, kupo?”

Yellow eyes blink at her. The human seems...nonplussed by straightforward introduction. That’s the term, right. Nonplussed. 

Yellow, yellow...better than Nightmare red! A Caster human, then, strong in magic. 

“...she’s injured.” The Caster human plops down a body, another human body right off their shoulder. 

Mozme buzzes. Ah, a Dream Eater! The perfectly organized core, the markings, everything points to that being the case, even with the odd human shape. 

“Oh yes, yes! Put them right there, take that jacket off, kupo!” Mozme gestures to her flat workspace. Starts pulling off the jacket with the Caster’s help. 

Black like the Caster’s coat, but with pink letters. Letters that Mozme can’t read, but that doesn’t matter. 

Oh, the familiar-looking Dream Eater symbol on their chest. A bit spikier than the norm too, hot pink stripes twining around each with white streaks running through them. 

Mozme pats the symbol. “Gotta check the core, kupo!” she explains as the Caster makes an aborted movement towards her. 

She points with a wingtip towards a place by the workspace. “Sit there, kupo!”

The Caster doesn’t. Instead, they loom over her. 

Fine. Whatever, Mozme can work just as well with that going on!

Mozme peels back an eyelid. Dark blue...oh, so they’re a Guardian! No wonder the Caster’s so worried, it takes a lot to down a sturdy Guardian. 

Scan, scan, what’s wrong? Peel back the protection, to see what lies inside. 

Oh, made from Wild Fantasy, that’s powerful _and_ rare. Someone put a lot of work into this Dream Eater, with that core of...

A core created out of...Mozme mentally prods the strange silvery material. It bounces back. Nothingness? How odd! How new!

Moogles have cores made of Light materials, while Dream Eaters are always made of Dark. But Nothingness...that’s different!

Unique, which leaves it difficult to repair. Its high absorption levels must be the reason this core has lasted so long in the first place, taking in everything it can to keep the crack from getting larger. 

Until something was...taken out. Hm, how curious! Probably better in the long run, though, better to have a huge chunk gone to alert someone what was wrong instead of slowly bleeding out in a metaphorical sense. 

“I do not have the correct materials, kupo. You’ll need rarer stuff than what I’ve got here, kupo,” Mozme informs the Caster. 

The Caster visibly considers their options before committing, like a good Caster does. They must make such a good team, Caster and Guardian, in a fight!

Be a pity if the Guardian died, breaking this team apart. 

“I can do a small patch, kupo...but you’ll need better material for a better fix, kupo!”

The Caster folds their arms across their chest. “And where would we get those, hm?”

Mozme thinks, wings flittering and fluttering. 

A strong Caster and a just as strong Guardian...

Maybe if she gives them to that Witch, _Ultmecia,_ Mozme will finally be free of the debt that ties her to the Dark.

Here’s to trying. 

“There’s this place called Mirage Arena you could try...fighting there will be sure to get you what you need, kupo!”

* * *

“You’re here again. You shouldn’t be.”

Huh?

Ugh, my head hurts...I open my eyes to slits. Everything is so... _purple._

Sitting up is a chore, pushing my hands against glass-smooth rock. My surroundings are familiar, but not in the way I’d like. 

Rushing water sounds. So much rushing water, waterfalls of it. Not a waterfall in sight. 

The purple-cave place from...that fight I had before, against the shadow-me. 

Why am I _here_?

There’s no shadow this time, thank goodness. Instead...

Riku Replica. Sitting there, back to me, knees hugged up to his chest. 

“Hello?” I try. 

A silver-haired head turns. “It’s dangerous for you to keep coming back.”

“Well, I don’t mean to.” Something about him... “Are you okay?”

Riku Replica huffs. “Not like this!” He gestures toward the ceiling. I look up and see...oh. There’s a chunk of purple rock just _gone,_ opening out into a black void. 

“You’re falling apart.”

Oh. Um. That’s not good. Looking away, my eyes spy more cracks that appear to open up to that same void as the first. “Well, there’s got to be a way to stop it, right?”

Gloved fingers tap against the crystalline rock, producing a bell-like chime. “If there is...it’s not in here.”

“I hate to ask...but what happens? If I...break?” I ask delicately. I’m _pretty sure_ I can guess, but a sure answer would be good. 

Riku Replica turns away from me. Huddles up even closer to his legs. 

“You already know the answer to that.”

Do I? I’m humming. _Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall..._

Oh.

“But who will put me back together again?”

Teal eyes stare at me from a purpley reflection. Seemingly meeting my eyes. 

“Don’t break,” he says. Almost orders.

I can’t help but smile. “If you say so.”

I shift and see...a door? A wooden door, just stuck in the stone wall. “Hey, where’d that come from?”

Riku Replica’s eyes widen. “You can see it.”

Not a question. Feels like one, but he’s almost..scared. 

I tilt my head. “What’s behind it?”

“Behind that door, is how we met.”

I frown. “Hey, don’t I already know that? You shared that memory with me.”

Riku Replica shakes his head. “No, that was _mine._ ” He flicks his hand at the door. “That is _yours._ And before you ask, no, I _don’t know_ the details.”

Oh, that kinda makes sense? As much as anything does in weird Heart Dives.

Symbolism is so much easier to decipher in video games and books than in real life...

I stand up, slowly. My legs feel a little jittery, as I stumble over. 

The door...

It’s huge, made of a black wood. Seems thick, heavy. No door handle. Reminds me of that door in the first Kingdom Hearts game, the one at Destiny Islands. 

Except for the...chains. Layers of indigo chains, the same color as my eyes, glowing a gentle white. Keeping the door closed? But why?

Tapping my fingers against it...sounds like a sturdy door. 

_“Lux...Lux...”_

Huh? I tilt my head towards the door. Trying to hear...whatever that was. Behind it. My hand spread out on the wood. Underneath the chain links. 

The door...shivers. Feels like it’s breathing. Alive. 

“You shouldn’t do that.”

Turning around, I find Riku Replica staring at the door. He looks... _afraid._

I pull my hand back. “Why not? My memory’s back there, isn’t it? That’s all?”

“...I don’t know.” Teal eyes slide away. “But whatever’s there...it’s bad.”

Red liquid, spreading out from underneath the door. 

Takes me a moment to realize, that’s... _blood._ (Your blood.) The stink of iron is heavy in my throat. 

I’m behind Riku Replica, somehow. Still backing away, my feet moving without me realizing it. 

Numb. 

I...

“I think I should wake up now.”

(No, stay!)

“Yes, do that,” Riku Replica agrees. He stands, raising his weapon against whatever lies behind that door. Defending _me._ There’s a lump in my throat, at the thought. 

The blood drips faster. Spreading across the floor, mirrored on the crystal ceiling. Red red red _red._

Oh man. 

(Don’t you want to know how you died?)

_Wake up!_

And I do. 

I jolt upright. My heart pounds and _pounds._ Hard enough to hurt. 

“Kupo!”

_Whack!_

Something has just...been catapulted from my chest? What.

“Uh, where are we?”

Xehanort’s watching me with those creepy yellow eyes of his. Not concerned at all about the...I squint. The Moogle(?) that just hit the far wall. 

As I watch, the Moogle stumbles to their feet, wings twitching. 

Okay then?

“Ugh,” I groan, rubbing at my chest. Where my heart’s still beating like crazy, throwing itself against my ribcage. 

Wait...that’s not soft. Rough to touch, actually. Ridged. I look down. “Where’s my hoodie?”

“Here.” Xehanort doesn’t quite _toss_ my hoodie back to me, but he doesn’t quite do anything else. I catch it easily, clutching it to my chest. My currently bare chest, ugly burn scars arching over it from my right side. 

Egh, please don’t look at me!

“...What were you exactly _doing,_ when I fell asleep?”

“Checking your core, kupo!” The Moogle says cheerfully. Not flying like every other Moogle I’ve seen, but instead hopping over like a mutant rabbit. 

Weird. 

I swallow and put on my Darkness to cover me up. It creeps back into the familiar shape but the pattern, on the chest, is different. 

Not the black heart, outlined in red on top of blue. Riku’s Dark Suit. 

Well, the blue’s still there. As is the black. But the symbol’s different. More of a thorny heart shape than an actual heart. Bright pink thorns. With...I trace one with a newly gloved finger. 

White. Both along the edges and inside the thicker thornier bits. 

Dream Eater. 

Looking at the rest of me, it seems all of the red has been replaced with that pink. Blue, pink, and white, all together. With black added in the mix, to make the colors pop. 

_Trans_ Dream Eater. 

Holy shit. That’s...

“Kinda cool.” Can I change the rest of it, especially the stiff itchy skirt-thing? I look up, towards Xehanort. “Next move?”

The Moogle speaks first. 

“Well, you need to get your core fully fixed, kupo! My patch won’t hold forever, kupo!”

I blink. That’s...huh. Great. Also, a lot of kupo?

“According to _Mozme,_ we can get the required materials at a location called the Mirage Arena,” Xehanort says. 

Hm. I tap at my chin. “Seems like I’m doomed to fight in arenas no matter where I go...”

First the Underworld, now this.

I shake my head. “Whatever. So, you’re helping me find that stuff?”

Xehanort folds his arms over his chest. “I will do so, yes.”

That’s kinda weird. I know, I know, he _only_ cares enough to get me to all of the points we meet in the future. 

But he didn’t _need_ to stay after getting me checked out, helping me get stuff for my own health. I could do that myself, I’m pretty sure. Especially if it involves fighting in an arena, I’ve got a lot of experience with that. 

Xehanort...the youngest one must surely have stuff to do. Plans to plot, since he’s got to gather his vessels and do other evil things. 

It’s...weird. That’s all. 

Frankly, I’m not really vital. If he’s looking for a vessel, in me. There are _plenty_ of others in the current Organization XIII that would work. Xehanort even had spares in canon!

So yeah, he doesn’t _need_ me. Doesn’t need to put this much effort in. 

...Guess I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, huh? 

I throw my hoodie over my head. Readjust it so the _i eat monsters_ text is clearly visible. 

Look up, smiling. 

“All right, to this Mirage Arena place it is. Let’s go!”

* * *

Riku might be seriously losing his mind. 

It’s...noisy. In the Dark. 

That’s...it wasn’t noisy last time. The Realm of Darkness was completely silent, after he...fell there. Is Ruse going through the same right now?

Voices whispering to each other in the Dark.

Riku shakes his head violently, putting his face in his hands. But it’s not his face and these aren’t his hands. He can’t, he _can’t._

How did everything go so terribly wrong?

“What are you doing here, fool?”

Riku shivers, hands creeping up to cover his ears. Worst of all, _he’s_ here. Not really, not physically. He thinks. 

But somehow, Ansem is _here._ Never directly, Riku can’t ever see him beyond the corner of his eye. But his voice, his _scorn,_ is always so loud. 

Clear. 

“Giving yourself to the abyss like this...useless.”

“Shut up,” Riku hisses. The first words he’s said in reply, his throat raspy and rough.

Silence. 

The voices instantly quiet. 

Huh. Maybe he should have done this ea-

Then they start again. The noises, the voices, yammering and screeching for his attention, _wanting-_

“Quiet!” Ansem commands. The Dark, of course, listens to him. Silencing itself instantly. 

“You’re gone, I _killed_ you.” Back in Castle Oblivion. And Sora, before that.

Some people just don’t stay dead, it seems. 

“As long as you attempt to command Darkness, my shadow remains with you,” Ansem hisses. 

“I don’t need you.”

A low laugh, echoing forever in the surrounding void. “Riku, you have no idea what you need... has that foolish boy of yours abandoned you? Is that the source of your hopelessness?”

Riku bristles. “None of your business! Sora’s fine!”

“He’ll leave you, in the end. He’s of the Light and Light will never accept Darkness,” Ansem says dismissively. 

Riku’s fingers dig into his palms. There’s the sound of leather stretching, from the gesture.

He swallows back his words. 

Ansem _always_ has something to say in response, inevitably cruel and cutting. 

More than Riku can ever manage, except towards the people he cares for most. 

(I’m sorry, Sora. Kairi. What I’ve done, said to you both.)

“That doesn’t have to be true.”

He thinks of interactions between Ruse and Naminé. Naminé is quite clearly of the Light with her glow, Ruse surrounded by Darkness. Telling him that he didn’t _have_ to be afraid, using the Darkness often. 

“I know people who use the Dark, the Light, and still care about each other. It doesn’t always have to end up...like you said it would.”

Ansem goes quiet. A thinking sort of quiet.

That can’t be good. 

Riku stands up. He’s too tall, limbs too long, and the effort leaves him dizzy. 

The ledges are difficult to move along, nearly blending into the dark, but Riku manages it. One foot in front of the other, one step at a time. 

Closer to the center. 

Where Ruse fell. 

Everyone else is safe. It’s only...Ruse, that’s in danger now. 

Thanks to him. 

Why is every decision he makes a bad one?

“Where are you, Ruse?” He asks out loud, not expecting an answer. It’s none of Ansem’s business, the Heartless never truly met the Replica. 

“You should not trust her.”

Riku narrows his eyes. What? “You don’t know her.”

There’s a sense of the Heartless shaking his head, though Riku doesn’t see anything. 

“Unless you join your strength with me...what she seeks is not on _your_ path, but instead _mine._ ” A possessive growls curls along that last word. 

Riku bares his teeth at the dark and whatever hides in it. They feel...sharper. 

“No. Never. She’s not yours.”

And...

“I’m not yours either. _Never.”_

A low laugh. “You may say it, boy, but that does not make it true.”

“Go _away.”_ Riku reaches for the Darkness inside and _pushes._

Before him, a chunk of shadow shivers. And it _comes._

The Guardian _comes._ Hovers before him. Silent. 

Riku becomes aware that his hands are shaking. All of his body is shaking. 

Feels the cold creeping along his skin, under his coat’s sleeves. 

Riku breathes out and the Guardian rumbles back. A low sound that creeps into his bones. 

Something about the Guardian is...different, from other Heartless. Not Ansem-levels of different, who mocks and talks like any normal person might. 

But...different. 

Those eyes seem more intelligent as they watch him. 

Ansem’s quiet now, so at least that much worked. 

Riku hesitates. But. Could a Heartless help him find what’s missing?

“I need to find someone. Are you...” He trails, feeling stupid. How’s the Guardian going to answer him? It can’t speak. 

It moves its head back and forth, eyes glowing brighter and dimmer with each motion. 

A feeling, a pressure on his Heart. 

_Missing...search Dark?_

Riku closes his eyes. “Yes.”

More pressure, in the feeling of words. _Help. Will help. Dark deep but knows._

What can he say to that? Only two words. 

“Thank you.”

* * *

“Hey, anyone else hear that screaming? No?”

Saïx scoffs, from his spot on the edge of the room. “Demyx, you are hearing things.”

Demyx looks from his sitar, spreading out his arms. “No, no, I’m _serious._ ”

“So am I.” Saïx bares his fangs. “Do not test me.”

Demyx eeps, shrinking behind his sitar. Like it could possibly protect him. “Fine, fine!”

Roxas turns away from the scene, going deeper into the Castle That Never Was. His work is done, for the day. He _could_ go to Twilight Town and he will. 

Just...later. 

Right now, something...there’s a humming in his chest. A tugging, that pulls him deeper. 

There are less Dusks around than there used to be.

...Different. Roxas frowns. Should he ask Axel about that? His friend might know...but then he might not tell him. 

A lot has been changing, lately. 

(Something’s missing. A space at his shoulder. Where there...shouldn’t be.)

The deeper he moves into the Castle, it _feels_ darker somehow. Though it remains as brightly lit as ever, white everywhere. 

Until he stops in front of a door. 

There’s nothing special about it. Just like any other door here. 

But...

Roxas, for some reason, can’t walk away. The pull intensifies, begging him to open it. 

A high pitched...wail? Roxas leans closer, nearly putting his ear against the door. 

Is there something on the other side, making the noise? Not really a _physical_ noise, one that Roxas can hear with his ears, but instead it moves into his bones. Shaking inside of them. 

“Roxas,” a familiar _unwelcome_ voice rumbles from behind him. 

Roxas whirls around, panting. 

There’s the Superior _himself._ Standing there. Looking down at him. 

“Oh, um, Xemnas, uh...” Roxas searches for words, completely and totally lost. 

Gold eyes flick down to his. Completely cold. “This is not a place for you.”

Roxas stays silent. In response. What can he say?

“Return to your duties,” Xemnas continues. The Superior sweeps past him, into the room that Roxas had just stopped in front of. 

Opens the door and closes it firmly shut behind him. 

The wailing stops. The tug disappears into nearly nothing. 

Roxas stumbles away from the door, around the corner. Out of sight, out of mind. 

His fingers curl into fists and then uncurl.

His chest buzzes. He should...summon his Keyblade. 

In his right, comes his now normal Keyblade. Oathkeeper. But in his left...

There’s a second. 

One whose Keychain Roxas has used before, for his own Keyblade. The first Keychain, actually. Dark blue and gold, gleaming green. 

Missing Ache. 

Right there. A second Keyblade, alongside his first. He lets them both vanish, disappear. But the question doesn’t go with them. _How?_

Roxas slides down to his butt, nearly collapsing. Huddles against the wall. 

Another Keyblade?

“What’s going on?” he whispers.

Something is wrong. Has _gone_ wrong. And Roxas has no idea what.


	42. Development

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the One Rule about Fight Club is Don't Talk About It and everyone seems to heading to Hollow Bastion for some reason. 
> 
> They say GoD's blood is enough to wake the sleeping dead, if applied correctly.

Feels like a Thunder to the chest, when Ventus wakes up.

He breathes. 

Difficult, to pull in the air for some reason. Everything hurts. Aches and burns. 

He blinks. The sky is very white, for some reason. 

“Ventus,” a deep voice rumbles from off to the side. 

Ventus blinks. Slowly. He tries to move, sit up, but everything is so  _ heavy.  _

His tongue is clumsy, when Ventus tries speaking. 

“What’s going on?”

“You’ve been injured,” the same voice from before continues. “Remain still.”

Injured? How? When? Trying to remember...everything is fuzzy. 

Only...pain. Lots of it. But why?

With the greatest of effort, Ventus rolls his head to the side. 

Turning to see someone watching him. 

That face. Is it?

Ventus blinks, heavy and slow. His eyelids feel weighed down. “Terra?”

The face in question moves and the illusion doesn’t  _ really  _ fade away, but it’s definitely not Terra. Not with that hair and skin. Those eyes. Looks older, too. 

Yellow eyes blink back, long and slow in turn. Lizard-like. 

“No. I am Xemnas. Terra is...indisposed for the time being.”

“Really? Where?”

Is he with Aqua? There’s normally what happens, if Terra’s not anywhere near Ventus. 

“You have been left in my care for the foreseeable future,” this Xemnas continues. He raises his hand, into Ventus’ field of vision. 

A glimmer of orange. A familiar glass star, hanging from those black-gloved fingers. Spinning around lazily. 

He has the Wayfinder. Terra’s Wayfinder. Terra wouldn’t leave that behind, would he? Not with someone he didn’t trust. 

Ventus doesn’t know what he feels about that. In fact, he feels...nothing. Empty. 

Should he worry about that? He can’t, anyway.

His eyes roll down towards his chest, since moving his head takes too much effort. 

Blue cords made of lightning trail from him, pulsing. 

“These?” Ventus’ hand moves up, to rub at one of the cords. It feels  _ alive.  _

“They provide what is necessary for you to be awake. For the moment,” Xemnas provides in explanation. The Wayfinder vanishes from Ventus’ sight. Put away. 

Shouldn’t mess with them, maybe. Okay.

“Terra, Aqua...” He wants his emotions to come back, with his friends. Ventus may not feel but he  _ wants.  _ “Master Eraqus.”

The rustle of someone moving. Probably Xemnas. Gloved hands adjust the cords, moving them so they’re mostly underneath Ventus instead of on top of him. Digging into his back. 

“No, don’t,” Ventus tries.”

The hands pause. “This way, you are less likely to pull them out.”

Looking over, to see the man more clearly. The stranger that looks like Terra.

Xemnas tilts his head, like he’s hearing something that Ventus can’t. 

“More equipment is necessary, for your...best health.”

He turns on his heel, black coat swishing. Why is that coat familiar? Ventus has never seen it before...has he?

The sound of a door closing. Ventus’ chest lifts and falls, and repeats. Like a heavy weight has suddenly been lifted from it. 

He’s so tired...he has to see where the cords go. What’s keeping him awake. 

His eyes move, following the electric blue streams. 

The cords...they lead to his chest from a clear box sitting on a small table. A box with a  _ Heart  _ in it. Moving, beating. 

_ “Ven _ **_tu_ ** s _ ,”  _ the Heart whispers. His name is created out of a steady beat, from syllables stolen from unknown voices. Shivering down the cords in the form of whatever energy it’s supposed to be providing him. 

“T _ he  _ **No** _ body... _ to  **feel...** ”

One final pulse, manifesting as a shock in Ventus’ veins. Jolting him to life, giving him enough energy to actually sit upright. 

“ _ End  _ th **is.”**

* * *

“Man, Naminé would  _ love  _ to draw this place,” I breathe.

Look up, up, and up. Gonna hurt my neck at this rate. 

Very shiny. Electronic looking, blue wiring on a darker teal-ish framework arching around us in circles. Tunnels, leading upward to what appears to be a large glowing blue orb far above us. 

Mirage Arena. Seems familiar somehow, something that has shown up in the actual games at some point but I don’t quite remember from which one. 

Animal-like Dream Eaters frolic around me and Xehanort. Avoiding getting closer to us, which is probably smart. 

I spot a circle. A green circle on the floor, right in front of some stairs going up. 

“Oh, a Save Point!”

Familiar green light, all the way down here. Not sure why I’m surprised, there’s Save Points in DDD, isn’t there?

My feet start walking over to it.I ache a bit, maybe I can heal it u-

“You shouldn’t touch that.” Xehanort’s hand is suddenly on my shoulder, drawing me away from the glowing circle on the floor. 

I scratch at my cheek. “Oh? Why n-  _ oh.” _

Yeah. Right. If I can’t go into the Realm of Light right now, what would a small concentrated crack of that same Light do to me?

Nothing good, I’m sure. 

“Right. Thanks.”

Xehanort’s hand lifts away from my shoulder as quickly as it appeared. There’s a space between us now. He’s taken a step back, away from me. 

I squint at him. 

Hm? What’s that now? Is he...uncomfortable?

All right then. 

I shrug and head straight for the stairs this time. Skirting the Save Point. 

The stairs are wide enough for me and Xehanort to walk up, nearly side by side. Accounting for Xehanort’s new fear of personal space intrusion, of course. 

At the top...whoa. Opens up to a wide space. 

One with glowing boards full of what looks like  _ names  _ on every wall, with high Romanic ceilings. In neon pink, yellow, and green. Ow, my eyes!

My boots clack against the tiled floor. Tiling that creates the image of a...purple Dream Eater symbol. With red and blue tiles spiraling out from it. Hm. 

Going up to one of the boards, I sweep my eyes up and up.  _ The Red Mage... _ hm,  _ The One-Winged Angel,  _ oh, that’s not good... _ The Living Ragnarok,  _ what on earth could that mean?

My fingers trace along one of the bottom ones, a  _ Seer Savior.  _

“Almost pretentious, that one. Hm.” I tap at it. “Maybe I’ll meet ‘em, one day.”

Not names, then, but titles?

Like the Coliseum name boards, ones that eventually had  _ Mors _ on them. Thanks to my efforts fighting for Hades. 

Of course, this would all be creepy if not for the life filling this room. Dream Eaters everywhere, fluttering, running about. A crowd lacks only human figures but for us.

The small cute monsters everywhere, the glorified fighting, the bright loud arena...not to mention the random encounters from Castle Oblivion. 

All points to one thing and one thing alone. 

“Everything is-” I whisper to myself. Very seriously. This is very serious. “- _ Pokemon.” _

I giggle to myself, as quietly as I can manage it. Man, this is a  _ fantastic  _ revelation. 

“Oh, I wanna be the very best~”

“Hurry up,” Xehanort tries to order, from further ahead. Standing in the middle of the floor, right on the Dream Eater symbol. One hand gestures to a gateway. 

“The best there ever was~!” I skip on after him. Ah, this’ll be great!

Can feel the good vibes already, here.

I feel  _ alive,  _ too quick pulse pumping along like it always does. Want to dance to the humming beat of the soundtrack. 

Almost a high to it, that this place gives me. 

A Moogle, in front of the gateway. Frantically fluttering to stay off the ground, with the huge clipboard thing it’s dragging around. 

The sight is ridiculous. Can’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling through my chest. 

The Moogle squeaks, as Xehanort strides right up to it. Scary, scary. 

“We require High Class Dream materials.” Xehanort gestures to me, as I slide over to his side. 

“To get those...” The Moogle fiddles with their clipboard, almost drops it in the process. “You’ll have to do some  _ serious  _ fighting, kupo. Maybe even some lethal bouts.”

Lethal...that can’t be any different from fighting Heartless that will steal you and everything that you are, if you lose to them. 

I know all about lethal, though I try to avoid it on the behalf of people. 

(Try and  _ fail. _ )

“A fight to death? Sounds right up our alley.” I grin, bouncing on my heels. Fake it til you make it. Paint on a smile and no one will know...

Xehanort rolls his eyes. “Let’s...simply finish this up. As soon as possible.”

“Alright, but you’re no fun. Live it up a bit! You’ve got some time before the future catches up, don’t you?”

Yellow eyes stare at me. “...I suppose I do.”

“Are you signing up, kupo?” the Moogle interrupts. Then quails, as Xehanort shoots a particularly venomous glare at them. 

“Next session, the sooner the better, right?” I step in. 

“Yes.” A curt nod. 

The Moogle consults their clipboard. “Alright, then. Go ahead, kupo! Next fight is yours!”

Right away?

I hesitate, look over at Xehanort. Who doesn’t hesitate, going right to the gate which is currently slowly cranking open. 

“Okay.”

I breathe. Roll my shoulders back. Prepare to summon my shield. 

“Let’s do this.”

The arena, when we walk into it, is bright. Bright and colorful and there are so many people cheering in the stands. 

“Welcoming to the Mirage Arena, spread across all space and time...” A deep voice booms, “The Mysterious Figure and the Radiant Nightmare!”

Wait, what?

And then the Nightmare flood began. 

* * *

Kairi travels through her life like a ghost. 

Repeating the same routine over and over again, stuck in her tracks. School, then home, then school again. 

She can’t muster any life, any excitement for it. 

Not when two of the most important people in her life are missing and no one seems to think anything of it but her. 

“We should go to the mall!” Selphie suggests from her side. Always the best at catching when Kairi’s in a bad mood. A sad mood. 

Kairi tries a smile. “Sure, let’s go shopping.”

Maybe that will be enough of a distraction. From how everything’s changed. From her own hopelessness. 

(At least it’s summer break now.)

The mall is noisy. Overpacked. It always is, to make up for the otherwise sleepy town. 

A remix of last summer’s pop song plays over the ancient speakers. The one that Sora likes, he always sang right before everything happened, no matter how much Riku complained. 

_ ~Simple and clean is the way that you’re making me feel~ _

The memories hurt. Even more so that he’s gone. And Riku with him. 

Kairi’s eyes catch on two people. Catch and stay. 

The pair stand out from the crowd, though there is no solid reason why they should. Two girls, two among many. One in white, blond, pale (but for a purple cloth bracelet). Nearly glowing in the sunlight, clearly not from the Islands nor the mainland near them. 

Her partner is as different from her as night is from day. Dark-haired, tanned Islander skin, wearing red and black. Ever watching her surroundings, as the other girl examines clothing. 

Kairi only realizes that she’s standing still, staring at them, when Selphie tugs at her arm. 

“Kairi, do you know them?” Selphie asks, eying the two new girls suspiciously. 

“No,” she answers honestly. “But I think I’d like to. Come with me?”

Without waiting for an answer, Kairi heads on over. 

The blonde girl is looking through the skirts, comparing them to the one she’s wearing. The other girl, the one that reminds Kairi of Sora, her head comes up and she  _ stares  _ at Kairi. 

“Naminé!” she loud-whispers, patting her partner on the shoulder. “Is that her?”

The blonde,  _ Naminé,  _ looks up. Her eyes meet Kairi’s. The exact same color as the blue Kairi observes in the mirror. 

A jolt, to the midsection. Kairi freezes, midstep. Selphie, of course, notices right away. 

“Kairi, what’s wrong? Tell me, what’s going on here?”

“I have to talk to her. Stay here.”

Walking faster this time. Almost running across the crowded floor. 

Until she’s right there, right in front of them. 

Naminé smiles. “Hi Kairi. It’s nice to meet you.”

The other girl looks confused and a little surprised. “Oh, this is who we’re looking for? The Princess of Heart?”

At those words, Kairi feels her heart (her Heart, so full of light, that gives her that title) nearly stutter to a stop. “We should talk about this somewhere else.”

She calls over her shoulder. “Hey, Selphie! I’ve got to do something with them really quick! I’ll be back!”

An answer. “Okay?”

Kairi turns her attention to the other girls again. Gestures off to the side, out of the way and they both follow her lead. Thankfully. 

The only people that have ever used the title “Princess of Heart” have tried to hurt her and her friends. Yet something about these girls...they won’t harm her. 

Kairi  _ knows  _ it. 

“Please explain.”

Blue eyes look at her solemnly. “We need your help.”

“But who are you? What do you need a ‘Princess of Heart’ for?”

The two exchange glances, almost in sync. 

“I’m Naminé,” the girl in white, whose name Kairi already knows, introduces herself. She then points to the other girl in red. “She’s Xion.”

Xion nods. “Nice to meet you,” she says quietly. 

Naminé puts her hands together in front of her. “I’m your Nobody.”

Nobody? She says the word like it means something specifically. 

“What? What does that mean?”

“When Sora...freed your Heart, in Hollow Bastion...” Naminé’s eyes move away from Kairi’s. “He made me. By accident. I’m...your reflection, almost. That’s how I know you.”

The memory burns in Kairi’s throat, how it  _ hurt,  _ how she woke up just to see Sora fall. Disappear in her hands. 

She didn’t see Naminé, afterwards, but Kairi didn’t see a lot of things in Hollow Bastion after what happened to Sora, tears blinding her eyes as she stumbled after Donald and Goofy. 

If Kairi can bring back Sora from being a Heartless...maybe a whole girl could be born from what made him that in the first place. 

It’s not like she knows very much about Heartless and Dark and Light in the first place, to say that can’t happen. 

“What about Xion?”

Xion shuffles her feet. “...It doesn’t matter.”

Kairi frowns. But lets it pass. If she doesn’t want to talk about it, then Xion doesn’t have to talk about it. 

“Why are you here?”

Naminé takes a deep breath. Xion mimics her. “My friend...she’s gone missing. Like yours have. I can help you find them, if you help find our friend.”

Kairi almost can’t breathe. “Sora and Riku? You know where they are?”

“I can find out. With your help. I can’t do it alone.”

Should she say yes? It would be easier to wait here to come back, because they’ll come back, they promised to.

But...

Kairi hesitates. 

Maybe she’s tired of waiting. Maybe she wants to find her friends, instead of having them look for her. 

(Inside her Heart, something  _ sings. Wield me, wield me!)  _

“Do you have any leads?” Kairi holds her hands behind her back. Can’t be too hopeful about this...what if they don’t?

“Yes. Right here.” Naminé takes something out. 

A notebook of her own, Kairi notes. But not full of written stories like Kairi’s, but visual ones when it flips open. Drawings of landscapes mostly, with doodles mimicking people here and there. A lot of them look like  _ Sora,  _ almost. Shares the brown spiky hair, at least.  _ Important.  _

She’ll ask about those after. Later. 

Naminé flips through to some pictures very different from the rest. Colorful animals, or at least that’s what they look like at first glance, less so on the second, prance around each other. Some bleed _green_ watercolor. Blue circles, labeled with a _Mirage Arena,_ for some reason. All surrounding a portrait. 

Pale fingers tap at a face. A face that Kairi...hasn’t seen before? She thinks? There’s something familiar about the style of that hair though, and he’s definitely from Destiny Islands with that coloring. 

“This man...if we find out who he is, I think we’ll be able to find her!” Naminé’s face is determined. 

Xion looks thoughtful, her fingers tapping against the portrait. “He looks like the Superior a bit. Maybe he’s his Somebody? And...”

Kairi really needs to figure out this Somebody business, since it must be connected to the Nobody stuff. And a “Superior”? Did Xion work for someone? Someone bad?

There’s a chill in her, at the thought of this girl forced to work for  _ anyone.  _ And Somebodies? She needs more details on that. 

“And I saw a picture of his face. At Hollow Bastion.”

Naminé jerks. “Really?”

“Hollow Bastion, why would there be a picture at Hollow Bastion?” Kairi frowns. “Your friend didn’t live there, did she?”

“No but we should check it out, at the very least. Scout,” Xion supplies.

Naminé looks seriously at the two of them. Her free hand tugs at the purple cloth wrapped around her other wrist. 

“Hollow Bastion. That’s where we need to go, then. To find out more. Will you come with us, Kairi?”

There’s only one answer for that. No matter what change it may bring. 

(A chance to find her own friends.)

“Yes.”

* * *

The man is finally awake. 

Well, Aerith knows that he'd been awake for a while now. But now, he’s finally willing to let her talk to him. 

Aerith starts first, putting her medical supplies on the nightstand. To free her hands. 

“I’m Aerith.”

The blond man visibly considers this. Eventually settling on introducing himself in turn. “My name is Even.”

Even? Not a familiar name. But there’s a lot of names of people who lived in Hollow Bastion  _ before  _ that Aerith will never know. 

Because of people who wore coats like Even did, while he was bleeding out. 

“Did you work for Ansem the Wise?” she inquires. 

Even’s green eyes grow flinty, wary. “...Yes. I did.”

She lets out a breath. So. He’s not lying. Gains him some leeway, but not a lot. Not when the others find out. 

Who knows what he’s done, this Even? For the king who should have protected them but failed to. 

Aerith will find out. Not so much for justice, she’s never cared much for justice. But to make sure none of her people will ever be hurt again?

Yes, for them, she will. 

Aerith smiles. She wouldn’t call it “sweet.” Not when “bitter” fits far better. 

“Should you ever hurt any of the people I care about...”

She slams her boot against the base of the bed, causing the entire thing to shake. To crack.

“Beds aren’t the only thing I’m good at breaking.”

Even looks a  _ little  _ worried. At loss for words, certainly. “...uh. Ergh.”

Hm. For now, that will have to be good enough. 

But Aerith doesn’t lie. If he hurts anyone, she  _ will act.  _ She’s seen too much Dark not to. 

The door slams open against the wall. 

Yuffie! Panting like she’s run across the entire town, but why? 

“The Gullwings are fighting Sephiroth!”

_ What? _

* * *

Not for the first time, Rikku considers what a  _ bad  _ idea this is. 

Fighting a  _ Dark Fairy  _ goes against every kid story, every smart thing in the book. 

Especially with someone of  _ his  _ reputation. 

Slitted green eyes glaring, silver hair all over the place...single wing outspread and scattering black feathers  _ everywhere.  _ Darkness tainted feathers. 

He is awfully pretty, for such a dick. 

“You have trespassed where you are not wanted,” Sephiroth says scornfully, prowling up to his target. A man in a black coat, with the hood up. 

Now, that’s probably not good. But the Gullwings can’t be having Sephiroth here at the moment, not when they’re still searching for that mouse with the answers. 

What if he kills the mouse? By accident?

Well, no use delaying. Rikku fills her lungs and makes possibly the dumbest move in her life. Which is saying a lot, for her. 

“Compensating for something with that sword?” Rikku hollars. 

Green eyes narrow. “How dare you interfere,” he hisses, and swings that absurd sword into motion. 

Good thing Rikku’s already not there. Nah, she’s grabbed onto his hair, Paine on the other side and they both let their wings vanish. 

Fall backwards and  _ grow.  _

Look, Dark magic can do a lot of things probably. But it can’t stop the physics of having two small fairies suddenly becoming much bigger while holding onto your hair.

Just can’t be done.

Sephiroth topples. The smack of his head against the ground is particularly meaty. 

Ha! She’ll steal his stuff too, he deserves it!

He’s back on his feet quicker than they can shrink back down. Sword already moving. Sephiroth’s quick. 

There’s the reason he was considered their best, before he fell. Even being half-Fey.

...He’s probably still the best. 

Rikku knows where the blade will go. “Paine!” she screams. 

Before he can hit Paine out of the air, though...

A Dark fist erupts from the ground. Yanks the sword downwards, enough to miss. 

Another hiss. Sephiroth spreads his single wing (in big-size, how rude!).

“...You are not my quarry. But cross me again, and we will see.”

With that and a flash of Dark magic, the Dark Fairy is gone. 

“Coward,” Paine snorts. 

Yuna frowns. “He almost killed you!”

“You would’ve got him first, with the Aero you were charging,” Paine says confidently. 

Now that Sephiroth’s gone...Rikku turns to the guy he was attacking. The guy who may or may not have supposed shadowy fists to beat Sephiroth off with. 

The guy they rescued. He’s pretty tall, taller than any of the Gullwings when they full-size. Hefty in muscle too. This guy has probably seen some  _ shit.  _

Paine’s nose scrunches up. “Who are you, anyway?”

“Paine, we have to be polite!” Yuna says cheerfully. She bows midair. “Hello, we’re the Gullwings! And you are...?”

That hood shakes in a negation. “My name doesn’t matter.”

Rikku puts her hands on her hips. “Hey, we saved you! The least you owe us is a name!”

“...Riku,” the cloaked stranger finally offers, after a few minutes of Yuna’s eyes lasering into him. Surrendering, as all must before Yuna eyes. 

“ _ Two  _ Rikkus?” The fairy Rikku shakes her head. “That’s gonna be a mess.”

“Call him edgelord,” Paine suggests, arms folded over her chest. 

“That’s...” Yuna wiggles her hand back and forth. “True.”

The other Riku sighs. “I’ll leave now.”

“No! Wait!” Rikku flutters into the way, hovering right in front of that hidden face. “Do you know where a mouse might be? A Disnian one?”

Riku’s gloved hands tighten into fists. A touchy subject? Hard to tell with humans. 

“Why would you want to know?”

The Gullwings all look at each other. Should they tell him? Yuna nods. 

Doesn’t hurt. 

If it gets them more info...

“Well, he’s got something of a person we’re looking for. A Hero,” Rikku starts out, wings flicking nervously. 

“What is it?”

“A sword that looks like a key,” Paine provides. 

The dark Riku’s attention instantly sharpens. 

“Tell me everything.”

Well, how about that?

* * *

“Yen Sid said Merlin’s around here and we should go see him?”

Sora whistles, looking up at the familiar castle. “At Hollow Bastion? Okay, let’s go find him then!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As part of the grand introductory and welcome package to Mirage Arena, the almighty Ultmecia, Grand Witch of Time and Space, First among Nightmares, graciously offers all spectators and commentators a Grand Vote!  
> Who shall serve as the introduction “boss” fight to the Arena for the new fighters of the Mysterious Figure and the Radiant Nightmare? Put in your vote now!  
> A) The Living Ragnarok (FFXIII)   
> B) The Void Remnant (BbS)  
> C) ??? (KHux)
> 
> The Grand Witch Herself will make an appearance after the battles are complete to reward the victors, so choose wisely!
> 
> (Disclaimer: All votes placed after November 6th, 2020 will not be counted, due to the start of work on the 43rd chapter. As well as the Author’s mind getting eaten by NaNo and MoM worms. The other options offered will happen later within the story, so if your favorite isn’t picked, don’t worry!)


	43. Demonstrate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Even has an Emotion (he hates it), Namine has an Emotion too, Xehanort is a Pissy Teenager in an arena fight to the death, and our Hero suffers ongoing trauma from a past she doesn't remember.  
> How fun!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gore mentions at the end. Body horror, a bit. Ongoing Existence Crisis's.

There are a lot of situations that Even never thought he would find himself in, and talking to the wizard of Hollow Bastion, after a lost lifetime, is one of them. 

Talking to that wizard about a lost creation fits even further along that line. The burns spread across his chest itch. 

The tea tastes far too sweet for his personal preference. 

He continues sipping at it, despite that. His bandaged hands carefully handle the teacup, as cautiously as he can manage so not to aggravate the burns underneath. 

In front of him, with his own cup of tea, Merlin watches him shrewdly. 

“Why should I tell you anything about Ruse?” The old wizard inquires pleasantly. 

“I am...attempting to assist her.”

Merlin lifts an eyebrow. “Hm, how sure are you about that?”

Irritation, a familiar companion, builds in his newly returned Heart. “ _Extremely_ sure,” he stresses, grinding out the words past gritted teeth. 

This better be worth it. 

Even squints at his cup. A shimmering teal, with orange feather-patterns swirling through the liquid. “What is in this?”

Merlin takes a long slip before answering. “Lofty Tea. From Lofty Dreams, of course.”

...Dream pieces, it sounds like. If his scanty research is correct. Which it must be. 

Dream fragments had served as acceptable replacements for what the Recipe he adapted for Replica creation wanted. Fit well with his other changes. Perhaps that is why Ruse enjoyed this tea so much? 

Enjoying the warmth as her body slowly falls apart. 

Even puts his cup down. Suddenly losing his appetite. Not that he had much of one in the first place. 

“So, will you help me? Or not?” Simple answer, yes or no. 

Merlin puts one knobby finger up. “Wait a few moments. There’s something to attend to.”

The wizard rises and leaves the room. To...elsewhere. 

Even hisses and gazes barefully into his cup. 

_Wizards._

A knocking at the door. As he looks up, startled, the door bursts open. 

There’s a boy coming in. Not in the red clothes he knew him in, older looking. But...

“Sora.” The name slides out before he can stop it. 

The boy blinks at him. Confused. “Do I know you?”

His Disnian companions aren’t much better, sharing the same degree of befuddlement. 

Even forces his hand, clenched tight, to slowly relax its grip on his teacup. 

He doesn’t remember. Quite clearly, unless individuals being burned alive are a normal part of a Keyblade Wielder’s day, Even wouldn’t know. 

If the Hero does not remember _that..._ it’s possible he wouldn’t recall anything about Ruse as well. 

Wait...if he thinks back, to memories very blurry, when part of him still fought to wake inside Ruse’s Heart... An exchanging of words. 

(“That’s what matters. That you’re letting him make this choice. You’re a good person for that.”)

Ah. The boy wouldn’t know. 

Disappointing but unsurprising. 

“No. You don’t. What are you here for?” Even inquires curtly. 

“Here to talk to Merlin,” The duck, Donald says loudly. 

“You seen him?” Goofy asks hopefully. 

“He said he will return shortly.” But the fashion in which the wizard left...Even wouldn’t put it past him to have set this mess up. 

Again, _wizards._

An awkward silence as both parties mentally fish around for a possible conversational topic. 

Even puts his teacup off to the side. Very carefully. Should he?

He...shouldn’t say anything. He never did that much for Ienzo, fool that he is. (When will that boy reform?) Should have but didn’t. A lot of what happened ten years ago, and as a Nobody, fits under that category. 

“Have you met Ruse?”

The boy’s face is blank. “Who?”

Not entirely unexpected, but there’s a shock to his chest anyway. A burn. 

Now that he’s on this path...how should he describe Ruse? Describe her entirely chaotic thought patterns excited at every new thing, how she rightfully despises him even as she carries around his shield. 

The Replica he never thought he would be able to make but did. 

(Her and one other. Who is the second?)

There are no better words, that won’t make him sound like an enemy. ‘Creation’ would be better. But...wouldn’t communicate the sense of urgency about his request, his search. 

Not like a certain other word would. 

“My daughter,” Even settles on. “If you run into her...let me know.”

Weak, weak! 

Ruse isn’t his daughter. Not really. Anymore than Ienzo would be his son. The Replica would be utterly disgusted by the thought, if he knows her. 

But it’s the best way to get information on her. Find her.

Already he can see the judging gazes of Sora’s adult companions soften. Possibly thinking of their own families, if they have such a thing. 

Sora smiles. He always does, this foolish boy, but this is a softer thing. More personal. 

Even looks away. The fingers of his free hand dig into the fabric of his pants. 

What a pain, having no lab coat to tug back into place. Nothing he can really do with his hands damaged like this. 

“Sure, I can do that. Do you know where she is?”

Even closes his eyes. Fool, fool. He’ll sound like such an idiot for saying this. “I do not.”

“Erm.” Already he can feel those Disnians change their opinion from sympathetic to judging. Without even seeing them. 

“She...knows Riku.” Even offers, opening his eyes once more. Perhaps that will be bait enough, turn that judgement away. “If you find him, ask about her.”

Predictably, Sora brightens at the merest mention of Riku. Steps forward, towards him. 

“Riku? Do you know where he is!?”

Not currently. But Even can make his best guess. 

“He’s been here before. Stay around here long enough and he’ll come again.”

Even bites back further commentary on the issue, on the ‘perhaps you should let that boy take care of himself and stop running into traps chasing him.’

He’s not in the mood for the fight _that_ will bring up. 

“Oh, thanks!” Sora turns to his companions, grinning widely. “See, I told you seeing Merlin was a great idea!”

“You didn’t say that!” Donald protests. “But sure, we can wait.”

“Just a little bit,” Goofy says. “The King did want us to come back to Disney Castle, once we were done with everything.”

Sora waves a hand. “Yeah, we can do that too!”

Even sighs. Heavily. Rises from his chair, bracing against the wall. “I will not be in your way, then.”

Slides past them, outside. Waves off their offers of assistance, no need, no need. Leans against the outer wall. Resists the urge to put his head in his hands. 

There may be fruit from that, eventually. The boy is awfully good at accomplishing the near-impossible. Especially if the name Riku is attached. Better than Even looking for Ruse himself in his condition. 

As for the reason why he _needs_ to find Ruse...well. 

From his experiences inside Ruse’s Heart, there is one clear conclusion that can be made. Her body is no longer stable. Having his “soul-pieces” torn out of her, as vital as it might be for his recompletion, will have worsened those circumstances. 

At best, a repair can be made with supplies left in Hollow Bastion’s labs. At worse, the Replica may need a new body entirely, a gift that Even has no doubt she would refuse if he offered it to her outright. 

(And there’s someone else who needs that offer. No?)

To accomplish either of those...one item is vital. 

Even steadies himself. Physically and mentally, as much as he is able for either. 

“I need to find that Recipe.”

* * *

Xehanort, unsurprisingly, obliterates the entire front row before they get a chance to reach us. With a streak of exploding white-black electricity. X-shaped, too. 

Overpowered villain that he is. Drama queen. 

He takes care of the rest in a similar fashion. 

Which leaves me, standing there like a dumbass, with nothing. 

Aaagh. No, that’s not good!

I glance nervously up at the stands. The cheering has stopped mostly, as all the watchers have to take a moment to digest that their promised fight has turned into a one-sided landslide. Not blood, no excitement, nothing!

Uh oh. 

The high I got from just walking in here, from the excitement of the watchers...I can feel it dying. Feel that extra energy drain away. 

Tired. 

The next few rounds aren’t any better. Insta-kill with nothing left for me. Or left of our opponents. 

Bad enough that I can hear the grumpy rumblings of the crowd over the intensity of the beating, thrumming music. Wanting blood. 

Influencing said music into something...angry. Not good.

The announcer thankfully notices the shift in the mood. Proceeds to do something about it, even. 

“What an excellent warm-up! Before the real show begins, it’s time for a tune to bring out your _Real Emotion!”_

Oh, the gate on the side is opening. I hustle towards it and Xehanort, thankfully, follows me without prompting. It closes behind us, a little alcove while...dancers? Dancers. Dancers flood out into the arena, dressed in bright colors and waving to the stands cheerfully. 

Um. This is an...experience?

Music, starting to play? Like _music_ music, stuff that other people can hear. Since I’m pretty sure I’m the only one hearing the background soundtrack stuff. Unless Xehanort is much better at keeping a straight face than I think. 

He _is_ pretty good at that, though. 

A rock sort of beat, pop?

“What can I do for you~! What can I do for you~!”

Oh, a pop song!

Something like a halftime show, how cool. 

Long enough to convince Xehanort of a way to get the crowd on our side. 

Hopefully. 

Maybe it’s that rising excitement that gives me the buzz needed to press forward. Maybe it’s some well of untapped bravery. Whatever it is, I start talking. 

“Look, stop kill-stealing!” I wave my hands. 

Xehanort frowns. “Explain.”

“I know I’m slower than you, not as good of a fighter, but I _need_ to be taking out some of those Nightmares.” One hand lowers to tap at my chin. “And you’ll need to be less...efficient? More showy?”

Judging by his face and eyes, Xehanort might actually be offended by my remarks? I hurry along, to _why_ it’s important. He’ll appreciate that, right?

“Fighting in an arena is different from saving worlds from Heartless, or even just hunting stuff for fun,” I explain, my other hand gesturing in the air. “In the arena, your greatest enemy isn’t what’s in front of you, but the _crowd._ A happy crowd will want you to live, give you time to build your strength. An unhappy one...well, they’ll throw you to the worst beasts as cannon fodder and laugh.”

Being _Hades’_ Champion at the Coliseum taught me this much: the crowd might enjoy my fights, my antics. But the moment Hercules returned (in the eventual future that I’m probably missing), well, I would be nothing more than dead meat, another notch to add to their true hero’s belt in their eyes. 

Can’t trust the masses. 

“You’ve had some experience in this area,” Xehanort notes. His hands are twitching by his side, I carefully notice. No weapons yet. 

Maybe I won’t end up maimed after all. 

“In this _arena,_ yes.” Ha. What a good pun.

And whoa, if Xehanort rolls his eyes any harder, they’ll roll back through his skull. 

Jerk. I strongly resist the urge to stick my tongue out at him. 

...Does the younger Xehanort even know how to be showy in a fight? He’s certainly good at dramatically speechify-ing and disappearing. 

But the way he fought in the arena...simplistic, brutal. Executing what’s in the way with his Ethereal Blades. None of the swirly-swishiness I faintly recalling facing in the games as both a secret boss and an actual endgame boss. 

Of course, comparing Dream Eaters to Keyblade Users is probably an insult at best. 

“You need more...twirling. Circles.” My index finger twists around in a circle to demonstrate. “People love circles.”

“I am not a _performer,”_ Xehanort’s voice drips with scorn. Disgust. 

Look, I can’t help what happens next. I laugh. 

The laugh is loud, even with the thumping of the in-between show in the background. Super loud. 

Whoa, that looks like _murder_ in those eyes. Those gold eyes that laser into me, that threaten to burn me from inside out. 

Not again. 

Quick, deescalate! 

“I’m more of a performer than you, Xehanort. It’s not a bad thing. Just...something to keep in mind, for a place like this.”

Off balance, it looks like with the way his eyes widen and he steps back. Why? It doesn’t matter. Keep going, head for the metaphorical kill!

“Your weapons, your speeches, this coat...” I tug at one of his sleeves daringly. “Everything about that is a show! Telling people what to think about you!”

( _Play the role I made you for._ )

I twirl around, stupid stiff skirt sticking to my legs as I do so. Pat my chest, with the Dream Eater-ish symbol on it clear for the whole world to see. 

“Look at me! I’m a monster! Someone full of Darkness, that’s what my stuff says!”

“You’re no monster,” Xehanort states. Like it’s a fact of the world. He’ll follow along his Fate, Darkness is the most powerful of all, and Ruse is not a monster. 

My feet pause. The rest of me follows. Hm, what?

“By the common definition I...kinda am, Xehanort. As much as you’re...going to do a lot of things that result in my monstrous existence.”

I exist because of what this grumpy teenager will grow into. What terrible things he will do. 

How wild is that?

The truth burns in my chest. 

He scoffs, shaking his head. “You are wrong.”

Doesn’t clarify what exactly is wrong about my statement. Helpful. 

Whatever. Need a game plan to make us look good. 

“Best way...” I tap my chin. “Maybe let me follow in your shadow, with my shield. Pretend that I’m guarding your back and all?”

“ _Pretending.”_ Cold eyes, cold eyes!

“Because you’re much better than me fighting and don’t actually need a guard?” I flip my hands up in attempted supplication. “Plus it makes you look good, doing the killing, while I look good for being a loyal follower and all that.”

Xehanort seems to calm at my logic. “If that is the best course of action, I suppose so.”

Oh, agreement! Nice. I fist-pump. Just a little. 

Xehanort, thankfully, doesn’t seem offended by the gesture. Simply snorts and closes his eyes. 

Waiting for the halftime show to end. 

I breath deeply, in and out. Flatten my skirt, push at my chest with my gloved hands. 

The music is ending. 

“I can hear you~”

We must be up soon. 

The announcer doesn’t disappoint. 

“Now, for the return of our fighters!”

I grin. Bounce up, right behind Xehanort as his Ethereal Blades shape their existence from electric blue. 

The gate creaks upward. Opening up once more. 

“Time to get down to business.”

* * *

  
  


Hollow Bastion...

Naminé takes in a deep breath. The air is clean, but holds none of the sharpness or saltiness that Destiny Islands did. 

More of a floral scent. Despite there being no flowers in sight. 

Kairi is by her side. 

She has never been more aware of anything in her entire existence. 

Every breath, every footstep...it’s all Naminé can do to keep from flinching at the sudden expected-ness of each movement. 

What is going on?

Fear, Naminé faintly realizes. Fear except it’s not like facing Marluxia or Larxene at all. But it is, isn’t it?

Her Somebody could end her just as much as they could, but who knows what would happen to Naminé if she joined with Kairi?

Maybe she wished for that fate once. Now...

It’s the last thing she wants. 

A person, a person, is she really such a thing? 

(“I love you.”)

Naminé swallows at the thought, the memory. Love...that makes a person. If Ruse loves her, if she loves Ruse...she must be a person. 

No matter what her thoughts whisper.

“It’s up ahead.” 

Naminé looks up from her entangled fingers, to meet Xion’s eyes. 

Xion. Who thought herself a Nobody for so long. 

If Xion’s a person, if Ruse is a person...

Well.

She’ll believe she’s one too. 

“How close are we?”

“Well. The room’s a mess, if you want to see that,” Xion offers. “But we don’t have to.”

“Maybe there will be clues, if we go,” Kairi suggests. There’s a buzz, a hum about her. Bright and excited to be away from the islands. 

“We should go then.” More clues is good, right?

Naminé very carefully lets Kairi go first. So she can watch her. Her fingers tap at her Command Deck at her waist nervously. 

Xion lingers behind. “Are you okay?” Her blue eyes are searching, watchful.

Naminé nods. “Fine.”

“...okay.”

The halls are dark. Full of Heartless too. Thankfully Xion takes care of everything with her Keyblade, before Kairi and Naminé can even react properly. 

“Wait, you have a _Keyblade?”_ Hm. They didn’t explain that to Kairi, right. 

Xion shuffles her feet. “...yes?” she tries. 

“How?”

“It’s complicated. Maybe we should check the room first?”

Kairi looks Xion over. Silently. Before humming. “Alright. I guess we should do that first.”

Naminé...doesn’t know what to do. 

There’s nothing wrong with Kairi. A Princess of Heart. She’s...the person that Sora wanted. That’s all.

Naminé has Ruse. She doesn’t need to worry about Kairi. 

But, but. 

Why does she feel so _empty_ inside, every time she looks at her?

Why does the hole in her chest itch, begging for her to scratch? 

(Nobodies don’t deserve what Somebodies have. Nobodies have to _fight_ to exist.)

This doesn’t matter. It’s for Ruse. That’s all. Naminé can do this for Ruse, for the oddly colored dreams that fizzle in her head each night connecting her to Ruse. 

Inside the room, where this picture of Xehanort apparently is...

There’s a person already inside. Looking through the desk, slowly and leaning against it every once in a while. Long blond hair and...who is it?

“Hello?” Xion tries.

They turn. Naminé can’t hold back her surprise cry at the face. 

Green eyes blink at her, somewhat incredulous. “Naminé?!”

“ _Vexen?!”_ Naminé squeaks. Wait, what?

_How?_

“Aren’t you dead?”

* * *

One of the biggest differences between me and Young Xehanort, fighting-wise, is that Xehanort jumps right into it. While I...like to linger a bit. Figure out what I’m fighting. 

Jumping in has only gotten me pain after all. 

(Got me set on fire.)

So when Xehanort starts moving towards the next enemies (a flock of...Tama Sheep?), I swallow my fear and follow right on his heels. 

Sworn Oath is summoned. I have a gut feeling that it will be the best fit for this situation. 

Soak in some damage. 

More and more enemies. Flooding from, I dunno, _everywhere._ Oh, they’re bringing out the hordes now, huh? Want to see the too-proud Mysterious Figure and weakling Radiant Nightmare crumple under the weight?

Well. Xehanort wouldn’t. I might. 

But we’ve got a _plan._ Er, I have a plan and he _might_ follow it. We’ll see. 

My eyes glance over. Oh? Is the whip out? Not lightsabers this time? Fun. 

Xehanort _swishes._

Like actually, really. _Nice._ Very showy. Guess he is listening. 

Part of that glowy whip clips me, but I magnanimously decide to let the injury pass. My thigh burns now. Ouch. Need more armor? 

Put that on the list for later. If the colors of my Dark Suit can change, surely I can add more armor somehow. Since the shield is clearly not enough. 

My speed serves as a better protection at this point, really. With how fast Xehanort moves and how I need to keep up with him. 

He’s not very good at working in a team. More times than I can count he leaves me open for some nasty hits. Nasty hits that heal pretty fast thanks to Replica healing, but still. His whip and blades sting, if I stay by his side too long. 

But I have to. 

Because...

By his side, I can hear... _music._ Different from the background of the arena, something tells this is _his_ music. No one else’s. 

My heart beats with the rhythm he produces. A song that thrums louder and louder, heating up my blood, my chest. 

This song had a name, in a past life. But I don’t remember what. Only that it played in DDD, when Riku fought Young Xehanort. 

It’s his song, and I’m dancing to it like nothing else. 

Somehow the music informs me when he’s going to swing his weapons, move, and I move with him. Matching him, as he speeds up. A true partner. 

(Is this what a Replica supposed to do? If so...whoa. Damn.)

A whirlwind of blue lightning and Darkness, the two of us. Taking out the horde. 

Easy enough, when in sync. 

I take a deep breath and smell...nothing. I almost trip, almost lose the beat. 

What? I can’t...no Darkness smells? Everything seems normal, I breathe but there’s no stink. 

Not like there was last time I met Young Xehanort. 

Maybe I shouldn’t be thinking about this right now. Keep moving, keep swirling around him. 

Eventually the swarm comes to an end. Eventually the sound of a happy crowd is enough to overpower the beat I follow. I nearly trip, but a gloved hand roughly keeps me upright. 

“Now’s not the time,” he whispers. 

“When is ever the time for tripping?” I hiss back. Not like I try to!

Before he can answer _that..._

“Well, well, well. Look at our possible champions now! Such grace, such _power!_ Looks like they’ve finally picked up the beat!” The announcer gushes. “Worthy enough for our Grand Lady’s attention, perhaps? Only the last battle will tell!”

More cheers. More screaming. 

“For our final battle...everyone put your hands together for the Thorned Snake! From the era of Fairy Tales, this Heartless is certainly a _thorny_ one to deal with!”

A swish of Darkness and there it is. 

Whoa. 

Big snake. _Very_ big snake. One big head with smaller bud-like things? Spiked, with petals. A very clear red Heartless Emblem mocks me from its snakey belly-chest as it slithers towards us. 

“Why does it always have to be snakes?” I groan. 

Xehanort has the opposite reaction. “Simple enough,” he says, whip snapping at his side. 

Easy enough to say if you’ve got a Keyblade. Well, I guess he isn’t using it right now, but still. 

“Let me try something first.”

Xehanort inclines his head. _Listening_ to me. 

Sweet.

Summon Frozen Pride first. Hate the reminder it serves as, but it does give me the best boost on my ice abilities. Rest it against the ground, stand up straight. As stiff as a board. 

I suck in air. Let it itch and tickle in my lungs. Time for a new trick I learned hunting too quick Nightmares. Tap into the cold, that sits right next to my loss, my hunger. 

Breathe out. The air that hisses out can be visibly seen, frigid and nearly freezing my lips as it rushes towards the Heartless snake. Sweeping into it, _freezing_ it. 

White frost races across those blue scales, slowing our opponent to a stop. 

Stick my tongue to the roof of my mouth as soon as the mist is completely gone from my mouth. Experience has taught me that a brain freeze is imminent otherwise. 

My feet are cold, though. Have I frozen myself to the floor again? Lift a foot to check. Nope. Still mobile. 

“Excellent. Let’s go!” Xehanort _moves._ A quick three X-slashes slice through the air, all fiery and stuff, towards our frozen boss monster. 

Crack. Crack. Crack. Hiss.

Hm. As I watch the beast topple, I wonder...maybe too quick for a boss?

Egh. Always so hard to tell how far to go. 

Well. I can feel the celebration of the crowd vibrating in my bones, my gut. 

Maybe we did good. After all. 

“Something is not right.” Hm?

Xehanort’s still watching the corpse. The frozen corpse, that for some reason, has been sitting there frozen. No Heart released. 

Yeah. That’s not right. 

I steady my stance. Another fight? Probably. 

Cracking noises. I step back before I can stop myself. 

Ice breaking, but not from the snake. No, something _bulging_ from inside. A total Alien moment here, chest-burster and everything. 

_Darkness_ comes out. Darkness that takes the shape of...

Oh man. 

Oh no oh nonono.

* * *

_Creak._

The Riku Replica looks up from his sword. 

The door is moving. Wood wiggling, breathing. Again. Been doing that a lot lately, since they lost the Vexen-pieces that had been serving as a makeshift seal. Ice melted away and the door came out. 

Waiting. 

For something terrible to happen, he’s sure. 

“ _Lux, lux, lux,”_ it whispers, _“These memories, this ‘Kingdom Hearts,’ how...interesting.”_

The purple bulges inwards. Like there’s something behind it, pushing in. 

Riku stands. Right away. He doesn’t rush towards the door, he’s not stupid. But...what can he do? 

Before it breaks. 

_“Where are you? Did you think you could escape me? Time is no boundary...”_

Hm. Maybe it’s time for one of those words he got off Ruse. 

“Beans.”

* * *

  
  


There’s a lot of things you miss about Darklings, in the cutesy 2D art style of the mobile game. 

Never played it myself, but I looked up art. Videos. Wanted to know how the first Keyblade War went, since the main games mentioned it. 

...the implications are a lot more horrifying now that I’m living this. Who knows how many people, how many _kids,_ died. Whose Keyblades are in the process of rusting into oblivion on those rocky steppes, on a world far from here. 

Anyway. 

Here and now. 

The Darklings. 

They look a lot like Neoshadows, with their feeler-things and yellow eyes. None of the same blue patterns, but they are streaked with red. 

And have actually open mouths, that pant and chant, “Lux, lux, lux!”

Then you catch, in part because of those terrible mouths with very small teeth inside them, the proportions. How the limbs aren’t unnaturally long or short like those of other Heartless. Gawky, a bit. 

Those of a kid. Ten, twelve year old kids, tops. Maybe a little older, but certainly not full-grown bodies. 

My chest tightens. 

They rush towards us, nothing like the smooth currents of normal Heartless. Stumbling over each other, hopping about. Deceptively quick. 

One nearly jumps my shield, into my face, if not for a quick laser stab. 

“Pay attention,” Xehanort scolds. 

I swallow. Why is my mouth so dry, my heart so quick? My hands shake. “Yeah.”

“Whoa! How unexpected!” Gotta give props to this announcer, they’re quick on the draw. “Heartless from the Abyss itself! Vicious and uncontrollable! Place your bets now!”

The Darklings are enough to knock back, just gotta watch for the claws. Not quite in the synch anymore and Xehanort keeps clipping me, but that’s fine. 

This is fine. 

This. Is. Fine. 

My hands won’t stop shaking. Why is my body _reacting_ like this? What does it know that I don’t?

One small Darkling almost gets past my guard. I respond with a kick to the gut and it skids across the floor. It claws at said floor and...

“Sis-ter,” the little beast warbles. “Sis-ter. Eee-ma.”

I freeze. Cuz seriously, _what the shit?!_ Sister?! _Ema?!_

A hand grabs me (again) by the shoulder, jerks me out of the way of another attack from behind. 

“If you will not be useful...stay out of the way.” His eyes are especially bright right now. Bright and angry. Oh man, I’ve made him mad!

“Sorry!” I squeak. “Don’t know what came over me!”

Wrong. I know _exactly_ what’s going on: fear. A physical fear that I can’t manage to shake. But from what?

I’ve never _seen_ Darklings in person before!

...Have I?

My chest hurts. My head hurts too. There’s a lot of hurts going on. 

There’s so many of them. Always more. Why always more?

Then. A push. A _Pulse._

Music. Different music. With chanting and latin-y, like One-Winged Angel. 

Shit, no. Is Sephiroth here? Please no. 

Darkness thick enough that I’m choking. Xehanort is silent by my side. 

There’s a...woman. Or something shaped like one, the weight of her existence pushing me down. Not Sephiroth. 

She smiles and her lips are so very very red.

Blood red. 

With fangs hiding behind them. 

So this is who rules Mirage Arena.

She’s...whoa. 

That’s a lot of cleavage being exposed, with a nice Nightmare symbol plastered on it. Like how Ansem showed a lot of chest with his own symbol. 

...Is that the price of Ultimate Darkness? Less and less clothes? Man, what a scary thought. 

Her feathery red dress looks okay otherwise, though. Very harpy-like with those clawed feet and hands. Purple markings spreading across all exposed pale flesh. 

Bright red eyes _glare_ with the rage of a thousand fiery suns. Huge crow wings overshadow _everything._

I feel like a mouse under the view of a particularly hungry owl. 

Thankfully, this owl doesn’t seem hungry for Replica today. Red eyes sweep over, uncaring, before attaching themselves to the invaders. 

“We are Ultimecia.” One clawed hand imperiously gestures at the remaining Darklings. “You have no claim here, _Toxicity_ _._ ”

Then the Darklings explode. 

It’s very...messy. To say the least, a mixture of Darkness and...guts. I dry-heave as I’m nearly flattened by the gore. 

Xehanort’s coat seems to...eat the stuff up, as clean as ever afterwards. Lucky bastard. 

Guess the fight’s over now. 

“Ugh...”

I shake my head. 

“But seriously, what the _hell.”_

Why is my life like this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes:  
> -Ultmecia is using the royal We. Because she's a total Queen and that's an easier way for me to put across her game-canon pretentious voice quirks.  
> -I came up with the music stuff long before the MoM announcements. Funny how that works, huh?  
> -Will be playing MoM when it comes out. Let's see what cool stuff I can implement from it maybe!


	44. Desert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Roxas finds a lead, Riku follows after, the Gal Pal Team goes digital, and our Hero chats with Xehanort. 
> 
> (Don't forget. He's a liar.)  
> (But so are you.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me, it has been actual years since I've touched anything FF13 related. May the characterization hold up a little at least. MoM is now relevant, and I didn't even have to change any of my plot to do it!

A mission with Demyx today. 

Roxas...isn’t looking forward to it. Maybe he did once, but that was before he realized how much of the work  _ he  _ ended up doing instead of Demyx. 

Because Demyx is...lazy. 

Roxas lets a frustrated breath escape. That’s what this is, frustration. A lot of Nobodies can get it, even if they can’t actually  _ feel  _ things. 

Confusing, but that’s how it works. For Nobodies, at least. 

Instead of exploring around the Coliseum area (as the people there call it), Demyx heads straight downstairs. To a place that’s dark and cold and rocks everywhere. 

Roxas looks around. Takes in the lack of sky, the blue fires glowing around corners...

“Why are we here instead of the Coliseum?” Wasn’t the mission supposed to be there?

Demyx settles on a particularly flat rock. “Hey, there’s better pickings here.”

His sitar appears in his hands. Right away he starts fiddling with the sticks, or “pegs,” on it. Roxas looks around. No Heartless. Anywhere.

“Uh, Demyx?”

“Wait a sec.”

The Nobody starts to play. A song that Roxas hasn’t heard before from him, something softer and slower and makes Roxas...empty on the inside. 

Out of the surrounding mist, comes  _ people.  _ Responding to the music?

Two people in red. They look like human men, mostly, if a little too pale for most Roxas has seen. Especially in Agrabah. The shorter one has a sword and dark hair while the other is taller with a staff. Roxas can’t tell the hair color on him due to his fancy head-thing. 

“A new one,” the fancy-head man says. 

“A replacement,” the other grumbles. 

“What are they doing here?” Roxas  _ knows  _ they’re not supposed to talk to Somebodies. Of course, he’s done it before. But only with Axel, and none of the other Nobodies in the Organization because it’s against the rules and Saix would get “grumpy” as Axel called it. 

Demyx waves a hand. “Don’t worry, they’re  _ ghosts!” _

“Ghosts?”

“Like Nobodies, but no bodies instead of no Hearts.” Demyx surprisingly actually explains. 

“A simplistic explanation,” the one with a sword notes. 

“But one that will do,” his partner adds. He bows. “I am Braska and my companion is Auron. A pleasure to meet you.”

Answer with his name? They did that. “I’m Roxas.”

“I presume...another mission?” Braska inquires. 

“Yep! With Roxas this time, instead of me.”

Auron gives Demyx the stink eye. 

“I...see.” Braska turns. “Well, the nearest Heartless are in this direction...”

Roxas follows after. 

The Heartless come out pretty quickly. They always do, once Roxas takes out his Keyblade. 

It’s...nice. To fight with the ghosts. Auron uses a sword while Braska tends more towards magic. Both are very careful not to get in Roxas’ way and watch his back, which is more than some Organization members he can name. 

The work gets done faster too. Much better than Roxas expected, on a mission with  _ Demyx  _ on it. 

Gives Roxas time to ask them things afterwards. More specifically one thing that they used about a “replacement.”

“You said a replacement? Demyx’s been here with other Nobodies?” Roxas hasn’t  _ heard  _ anything, but...everyone has secrets. Some people have friends that refuse to  _ tell  _ them secrets, even. 

The other man, Auron, looks his companion over with his single eye. His other is scarred over, sorta like Xigbar’s. 

“There was a girl,” he allows. 

Braska taps his fingers on his staff. “Yes, but I don’t recall her name...hm. Only that she wore a black coat like yours.”

A girl. That wore an Organization coat too. 

This is  _ important _ , a whisper in Roxas’ ear. He can’t forget this. 

(Not like with-)

“Have you seen her again?” Roxas asks eagerly. 

Braska shakes his head. “Not after Ruse disappeared. Perhaps they disappeared together.”

Roxas thinks this over. 

More and more, it seems that answers can be found  _ outside  _ of the Organization. Not in it. Not with Axel, who suggests they talk about it later and then never do. 

But he can’t leave it. Not when they  _ need  _ him. 

Roxas can still get as much information as he can from these people. It’s like scouting, but with more talking. 

“Could you tell me more about this girl?”

Braska nods. “As much as we recall.”

Auron is more straightforward. “Yes.”

Roxas settles down on a nearby rock. Perfect for sitting. Ready to listen. 

* * *

Riku doesn’t have a ton of experiences with fairies but he was  _ pretty  _ sure they’re not supposed to be like...this. 

The one in black and the one in yellow are arguing. Again. While their leader just flutters around, giggling nervously. Is she really in charge?

Riku doesn’t interrupt. He doesn’t have the right to. 

He waits patiently. Too tall, too...everything. Sometimes he gets dizzy standing up and he  _ hates it.  _

_ You can make it,  _ the Guardian rumbles, more emotion than words. Strangely familiar and Riku can’t manage to place why that is. Maybe it’s linked with the Ansem inside of him, that is now on the outside as well. 

(“To protect things that matter. You know, like my friends.”)

Riku takes a moment to examine his new surroundings. 

Very...white down here. Like Castle Oblivion. The aesthetic is almost exactly the same, possibly built by the same individuals. 

Most of the archways are empty. 

But the ones that aren’t, glowing, have  _ familiar  _ weapon shapes in them...

But the book glows blue while the shield glows pink. 

He draws closer to the nearest one, eyes taking in every detail. Yes, he  _ knows  _ that book. It was Zexion’s, the Nobody who attacked him and Mickey when they were looking for Replica data. But why is his  _ blue  _ while Vexen, the shield, is pink?

What does it mean?

Definitely Organization connected, but for what?

“It’s not supposed to be like this,” Rikku speaks up. She kicks her foot midair. “Bad people came in and  _ ruined  _ everything.”

“Don’t tell him anything,” Paine says. “It’s bad enough that he’s down here...”

Down here. What’s so special about this place? Is this where fairies are supposed to live? If so...

Riku can see why they would be upset. After what happened to Destiny Islands, seeing that wreckage...

Even he felt something at the sight. Even when he so badly wanted to leave the islands. 

“Do you have something I use to track her with?” The leader, Yuna, floats up to his face. Her eyes are very bright. 

“Wait a second.” He backs away, digging in his pockets. His hand closes around...yes. Something he should have eaten  _ months  _ ago, when Ruse first gave it to him. But he hadn’t. 

A good thing that he hadn’t. If it’ll help him find Ruse.

Riku pulls it out. 

A granola bar. Still wrapped. The one he got right before fighting Ansem. 

(A fight he failed, in the end.)

“Will this work?”

Yuna flies right up it, poking at it with a small hand. “Oh...yes! I’ll try it!”

She rests her hands on the food bar and closes her eyes. 

Um.

“Uh?”

Rikku puts a finger up to her lips in a shushing gesture. “Sh! She’s using her magic to look!”

“That doesn’t ex-”

“I’ve got her!” Yuna cries out, a strike of lightning to Riku’s chest. Metaphorically. 

A burst of hope. Finally, a  _ lead! _

* * *

Xion doesn’t know this man. But she does, somehow, deep in her gut. 

Vaguely familiar. 

Next to her, Naminé makes a sound of realization. Names the man. 

“Oh, you’re Vexen!”

Vexen makes a loud ‘harumph’ sound. His fingers tap at the desk he’d been bent over examining. “Even now, actually. And you are Naminé, Xion, and...”

He eyes Kairi expectedly. 

The Princess of Heart shuffles her feet, hands behind her back. “Kairi.”

“Kairi.” Even gives a firm nod.

About that introduction...Xion suddenly notices something about it. 

“Wait, you know my name?”

“Of course I do, it’s...” Green eyes squint in a newly puzzled face. “I did  _ say  _ it, what was it...?”

“Xion,” Xion supplies. Disappointed. Just a little. She shouldn’t be, no one has remembered her so far. But then, no one suddenly called her by name and somehow forgot it in the next instance. This is new. 

“Xion. That’s right. Now, what are you doing  _ here?” _

Naminé shuffles her feet. Kairi answers for her. “Looking for leads.”

“Hm.” Even pushes away from the desk, with wrapped up hands. “On Ruse, I presume.”

Naminé stiffens. “How do you know that?”

“Because I have been looking for her as well. Would be remiss of me not to keep track of other parties doing the same.”

That seems...awfully convenient. Xion doesn’t have to look over at Naminé to know that she’s thinking the same thing. She’s not sure about Kairi’s thoughts on the matter, however. 

“There’s nothing in here. I’ll have to go to the main computer...” Even mutters, walking towards the other door in the room. 

The three of them follow after. “You have files on Ruse on a computer somewhere?” Naminé seems interested and slightly excited by the thought. 

To be honest, Xion kinda is too. Would a computer remember her where people did not?

“Possibly. We’ll have to check.” Even doesn’t object to them following, at least. He does give them a  _ look  _ but doesn’t say not to. Not like DiZ would. 

He leads them to a large room with a  _ huge  _ computer in it. Overlooking...some sort of machine. What could it be for?

Kairi squints at the screen. “What’s that? Is it safe?”

Even rolls his eyes, walking up to start inserting something through the keyboard. A password, maybe. 

“It should be  _ perfectly  _ safe, as long as some moron doesn’t start tap-dancing on the keyboard or something ridiculous like that.”

Well, Roxas would probably just smash the computer. He’s not very good at them, not like Xion is. Maybe the man is right to clarify the danger like that. 

Kairi looks confused, so maybe she doesn’t do computers very well either. At least Naminé seems to understand what’s going. 

“So what do you need to do with the computer?” Naminé asks, curious. 

“Once I get into the OS, the MCP should be able to find what I need in the DTD,” Even explains. 

Kairi’s face screws up. “Is that a who or what? This is a lot of computer stuff...”

“The MCP is an AI.” 

Naminé’s eyes and skin glow brightly in realization. “Like Guide.” Guide? Who’s that? 

“One more personable, at least,” Even agrees. 

He knows who this ‘guide’ is? Xion slides her eyes over to Naminé, who appears surprised that Even knows who this is too. Hm. What could that mean? How does he know so much?

“What are you talking about?” Kairi speaks up. 

Better she asks the question than Xion. Xion’s questions tend to not get answered, she’s noticed from her time in the Organization. 

If Kairi’s a Princess, she’s probably important enough not to get ignored. 

She gets ignored, Even going back to the computer to tap at some of the keys. 

“Excuse me?” The redhead looks over at Naminé. “Um, could you explain please?”

Naminé taps her chin. “Guide is a computer that can think, that’s what Ruse said about AIs, over at Castle Oblivion.”

Blue eyes look worried. “I hope they’re okay, even if the Castle is gone now.”

“A computer that can think...” Kairi thinks out loud. “Whoa. Bet Riku and Sora have never run into one of those.”

“Roxas hasn’t either,” Xion inputs. How strange to think that she’s now experiencing all kinds of new things that Roxas hasn’t, like folded paper birds or thinking computers. 

Has Axel met a thinking computer? He probably has, he’s done a lot of things both Xion and Roxas haven’t. 

She would like to show them everything one day. When it’s safe. When someone can remember her. 

A loud flat voice grabs her attention, coming from the computer. 

“Unauthorized user. Halt attempting access at once.”

“Xehanort!” Even spits the word out like it’s a curse. “What did you  _ do?!” _

His fingers type at the keyboard more energetically now, click-clacking away. The computer screen beeps at him and glows red. 

“Unauthorized password. Unauthorized user.”

“That’s not good.” Kairi is pretty good at stating the obvious. Is that what Princesses are for?

“Immediate defensive action underway.”

Something beeps from behind them. Xion starts turning to look. 

“No, no, n-!” Even’s voice gets louder before suddenly disappearing. Along with everything else, in a flash of light. 

When Xion can see again, everything is...blue. 

Blue and black and very...much like what she’s seen of code. The same colors she saw on the screen Even was typing on. 

“We’re in the computer,” she says first. 

“Inside of the computer? I didn’t know that could happen.” Kairi peers around curiously. 

“That’s not normal for computers,” Naminé agrees. “Guide could do it, though, so maybe that’s what AI can do?”

They’ve all got these streaks, lines, on their newly greyish skin and clothes now. Like the lines of programming Xion recalls seeing on the computer screen. Making them...programs now? 

Xion...looks different from both Naminé and Kairi. Her new streaky, blocky lines glow an electric green instead of an electric blue. She spreads her hands in front of her to get a better look. Flexes them. 

But before she examines herself more thoroughly, she should scout out their surroundings first. Check for danger. 

The same walls. There’s a fuzzy sort of door that buzzes when Xion touches it. Trapped, then. That’s not good. And...

Behind Naminé, sniffing at the wall, there’s...

“Naminé. What’s that?” Xion points to the furry thing with long ears. Stay calm, hasn’t attacked anyone yet...

“A rabbit!” Kairi gasps.

Xion continues to point at the  _ rabbit.  _

“Oh! That’s my Linking Program.” Naminé squats down next to it. Rubs her hand on its head. “It helps me cast spells faster.”

“Oh, that’s pretty useful, where’d you get it?” Kairi asks. 

“Guide,” Naminé says simply. 

Oh. That’s one avenue closed. Xion will just continue to cast her spells the usual way. Unlucky. Faster spells would have been nice. 

“Hello?” A new voice calls out. Male-sounding. “Who are you?”

Kairi cups her hands around her mouth to yell back. “Who’re you? Are you trapped in the computer too?”

“Trapped in the...oh. No. I am Tron, a security program. You must be Users!”

A program, but talking...life inside of the computer. Another one of these “AI,” maybe. 

Naminé brightens. Next to her, the Linking Program starts hopping in place. “Oh, yes, we’re Users!” she calls back, “Can you help us?”

A pause as the program thinks it over. Its answer? “Sorry, I am unable to assist you. I am currently trapped in a holding cell.”

“We must be in a cell too,” Kairi speculates, hand patting against one of the walls. “Have to get out to help him. But how?”

Xion eyes the door in question. It’s locked. But...

She does have something that opens locked things, doesn’t she? At least it worked for chests, she’s not sure about Keyblades and doors. 

But doesn’t hurt to try...

She holds out one hand, summoning Oblivion. 

Oblivion glows like everything else here does, but otherwise is a perfectly normal Keyblade. 

“Oh right! Xion could use her Keyblade, I forgot.” Naminé looks disappointed. The Linking Program rubs its head against her leg, managing to chase the frown away with the action. 

“A Keyblade!” Kairi frowns. “Xion, why didn’t you tell me that you had a Keyblade?”

Xion moves her shoulders sort of like a shrug. “It wasn’t important then.”

“I guess...didn’t know there was more than one...”

“Try the door,” Naminé urges. “You should be able to do it with no trouble.”

Oblivion goes up as Xion focuses. Want the door...open.  _ Open.  _ A beam of light shoots out of the end at the door. 

The cell door shimmers. Disappears with a loud click.

Xion lets out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. 

“Now, let’s get out of here!”

* * *

Huh. My brain’s all fuzzy. What did I eat this time?

Chowing down on those yummy Nightmares earlier may have been a bad idea...

“Oh, hey. You’re awake.”

Riku Replica stares at me from across shattered crystal as I slowly sit up. Painfully, head burning like a nasty hangover. Shake away flowers, computers, and  _ Tron,  _ for some reason...what was I even dreaming about?

I squint at him. He’s bleeding, Dark Suit cut up, some part of my somewhat active brain notes. Bleeding green like I do. Like Xion does. 

Replica blood. Pooling across the purple crystal floor, into the deep cracks. 

“What happened to you? Are you okay?”

Riku Replica sighs, slumping lower. “Angry Nightmares are a  _ pain. _ Especially big old ones like that. Don’t let it take over, next time.”

Okay? Um. Didn’t really answer my question...

“Yeah, but are you...okay?” I realize, awkwardly, that ‘you’ is a rather general term. That Riku Replica doesn’t have a name other than Riku or Riku Replica to call him by. 

Something about that...hurts. 

I move to rest on my heels, looking him over. “...do you want a different name than Riku?”

Riku Replica jerks up. “What? Where did that come from?” He frowns at me. “Did your brains get dashed out when that thing came through? What’s a name got to do with anything?”

I shake my head. Mistake, the resulting dizziness nearly conks me out. “Uh, ah, it’s just kinda...I don’t want to keep calling you Riku Replica, when I picked a name after people called me that. It makes...”

My hands gesture vaguely. Shapelessly. 

There’s a million things I could be asking, like how I’m here, or what came through, or what the hell happened with Ultimecia.

But somehow, this seems to be the most important at the moment. 

Names are important. People with names  _ stay around  _ instead of getting shuffled off into the afterlife for taking valuable character space. 

(Am I bitter? ...Maybe.)

I’m in what should have been his body. He deserves better than that. Than everything that happened to bring him to this point. 

Teal eyes look me over. “No,” he finally says, “Not yet.”

“Eventually, then!” I perk up. “I’ll look for some good ones, if you’d like.”

Riku Replica sighs. A fond sort of sound, but I might be reaching. “Never change, Ruse. Never change. Just...if you’re taking requests...”

“Yes?”

Suddenly serious. His hands are on my shoulders, gripping them tightly. 

“You should probably wake up now. Before Xehanort starts stabbing you with his Keyblade or something trying to fix things.”

Wait, what? 

He shoves me  _ hard _ and I  _ wake up.  _

* * *

Waking up a second time is a breath of air after a sudden submersion. 

I gasp and gasp, and it never seems enough, my chest working desperately. 

“Calm down! You’re okay, you’re okay!” There’s a woman with red hair, wearing a pink...halter top? Or something. Green eyes, very bright. 

Right in my face. 

I jerk up and bring my hand up towards her face, ready to tea-

“Stop right there!” Another woman. With brown hair, looking ready to pulverize me. Her purple eyes flash with a promise to hurt me should I make another move. 

I freeze. My hand twitches, covered in Dark Suit, tipped with  _ very  _ sharp claws. 

“Those must make handy can-openers,” the red-haired woman observes.

“Uh. I did that once.” Lower my hand, let the Darkness creep away. My chest hurts. “Um, sorry?”

I look myself over. I’m sitting on a bed of some sort, in an infirmary. I think. Wearing my Dark Suit, unsurprisingly. 

My Dark Suit looks...well, the colors and design are mostly the same. Mostly. More padding in the chest and back, along my joints (mainly my wrists and ankles), to give more support. I think. Feels better than before at least. 

My dumb skirt is no longer the dumb white-cream stiff mess it used to be. Instead, it’s mostly strips of dark pink and black cloth hanging from my waist tied together to mimic a skirt at the very least. Goes to my knees, with a few stray stripes stretching out a touch longer. 

My boots...thinner. More flexible to fit to my foot. Still has a heel to it, but less rubbery. Black, streaked with more dark pink. 

I’m blue, pink, black...with the same touch of white on my chest. With the weird almost a Dream Eater symbol. That much hasn’t changed. Again. 

What happened?

I don’t realize I’ve said this out loud until the brown-haired woman snorts. 

“You went crazy and tried to kill Ultimecia, for one thing.”

Wait, what? Attack that lady who pulverized a flood of Darklings with a wave of a hand?

“What? That’s crazy!”

“You did it, makes you crazy,” that same woman points out. 

I frown at her. “Who are you, exactly?”

“Fang. And this is Vanille.” Fang jerks a thumb at her partner, the red haired woman who waves at me. 

Those names seem vaguely familiar, but I don’t know from where. Hm. 

“Um. Thanks for not killing me. I appreciate it.”

What does that say about my life that’s something I can probably expect to say in the future?

Nothing good, really. 

My stomach grumbles. I wince, putting a hand on it. 

Vanille leaps up. “Oh, let me just grab something real quick!”

Fang turns towards her. “Grab me something too, ‘kay?”

Shoving her bare shoulder almost in my face. 

On Fang’s shoulder, there’s a silvery mark. The mark of a...

“You’re a Dream Eater?” Oops, another accidental out loud thought. 

At least Fang doesn’t seem offended. “A Spirit.”

“Created to serve,” Vanille adds. 

She then pats at her leg, where I presume she’s got a mark too. I don’t ask to see it, if she’s not already showing me, she probably doesn’t want me to see it. I can do that much. 

“Right here!”

She turns to offer me a bowl of...mashed up Nightmare bits. I think. She hands another one to Fang, who accepts it with a nod. 

“Chow down!”

There’s a spoon already in there. I dig in. 

Tastes kinda...bland. I stop chewing. 

“You make this?”

Vanille beams. “Of course.”

Um. I swallow. It’s filling. Not bad. “I like it.”

Across from me, Fang relaxes. Oh?

But something else draws my attention from a possible relationship I’m treading into here. 

Their eyes...the color, they’re changing. Both to blue, but Vanille’s are greenish blue while Fang’s go purplish-blue.

Sort of like...mine. Purple-blue eyes. 

“Your eyes...” I try for words. 

“Oh? You’ve never met another Spirit before?”

“Not a sentient one.”

Vanille smiles. Claps her hands. “So we’re your first! Great!”

...sounds kinda dirty. I’m not going there.

“But the eyes...?” I try. 

“Well, eyes for a Spirit change when they change their Focus,” Vanille explains, spinning a finger in the air. “I’m mostly a Mage-type, with a high enough Focus on Magic Resistance that my eyes stay mostly green to match!”

“I’m a Warrior type, usually,” Fang puts in. “That’s purple.”

“Then...what’s blue?” What am I? 

“Guardian-type,” Fang states bluntly. 

Vanille clasps her hands together. “I didn’t want to change your Focus without asking...so I picked some Guardian-type food to match. Hope you don’t mind!”

“You’re a Warrior-Guardian mix, though.” Fang takes another bite of her meal. “Emphasis on Guardian, judging by the shield you used before.”

Oh. I sit there quietly, thoughts whirling with this new information. Focus, types of Spirits...eye color disposition, is that what it means from DDD? 

A Replica is like a Chirithy, Mosh said, which is a type of Dream Eater. Replicas as  _ actual  _ Dream Eaters...what does that mean for Xion? Or me?

“Um. I didn’t know that,” I finally say. Feeling very...small. Young. Like a kid. 

“Oohhh, you’re new.  _ Very  _ new.” Vanille looks me over with an air of sympathy, not too different from the happy innocence she’s been putting up. 

Like I do, sometimes. Takes one player to recognize another. 

A huff of breath. Fang leans over, putting her bowl on the ground. “New. No wonder you attacked Ultimecia. Baby Spirits are  _ really  _ bad at controlling themselves around Nightmares.”

“About that...” I scratch at my head. “How did that happen? Why am I still...you know,  _ alive? _ ” Not to tempt fate or anything...

“Your Mysterious Figure saved your life,” Fang puts bluntly. “Without him, you would be paste against the wall and your Core a meal for Ultimecia.”

She leans on her legs. 

“That’s why Spirits fight in pairs, at the very least. One can keep the other grounded, if there’s no Bond present.”

I swallow. “Oh.” Fight the urge to scratch at my facial scars. “Guess I should thank him...”

I look around. Infirmary. Empty but for me, Vanille and Fang. No Xehanort. 

“Where is he, anyway?”

“The Mysterious Figure?” Vanille taps her lips. “Weeelll, he said he wanted to explore. So I let him, once he showed he wasn’t hurt.”

Pushing the thought of that amusing probably-indiginity out of my mind...I nod. Stand up from the bed, careful to not knock the bowl over. 

“I should find him.”

Fang nods. “Good idea.” She points at the open doorway. “He went that way. Go straight, then left. The most interesting stuff’s there, probably. 

I put my hands on my hips. Nod back at the two of them. Turn towards the doorway. 

“I’ll be back, thanks for helping me out!”

“Good luck on finding your Caster!” Vanille calls out after me. 

Caster? Is that what Xehanort is? I’m not quite sure that the term is right.

Maybe I should correct them. Or at least ask more about it. 

...

Nah. I’ll do that later. Right now I need a moment to breath. To walk around. 

“See you later.” I shoot a finger gun before walking through the door. 

Then pause to pull out my hoodie. The  _ i eat monsters  _ one. 

It’s stupid, I know. Putting on my hoodie doesn’t give me extra protection, as far as I can tell. Not like my Dark Suit can and does. But it feels...warmer. Softer. Better than without.

So I’ll wear it whenever I can. 

My eyes itch, looking at my hands. Feel kind of sick. 

I pull my hands in, so the sleeves cover them. Soft and warm. Can’t see ‘em either. Perfect. 

The hallways are mostly empty, but for a few Dream Eaters scattered here and there. Mostly Nightmares, judging by the coloring and red eyes. They scatter if I get too close, so I don’t mind them. 

Everything looks very electronic, very different from Ultimecia’s witchy vibe. Wonder why that is? Hm, something to look into when I’m less likely to get slaughtered by said witch for poking my nose around. 

Like Xehanort probably is, right now. Maybe I’ll ask him, see what he thinks. 

My fingers trace along the walls, lighting stuff up as I go. Very cool. 

Long windows pop up here and there, along the side. Like the plastic-glass stuff at hockey matches. Serving as glimpses of various different arenas, each one full of a different fight. 

I pause at a particularly loud one, to take a look myself. 

Lots of cheering that leaks through the glass from the watching crowd. I look over to the arena itself, away from the stands arrayed underneath this window spot. 

A person fighting below. A person in  _ Keyblade armor.  _

Hm. That Keyblade armor, that coloring and design...I know them!

“Oh, that’s Terra?” Oh! I peek through the glass, nearly pressing my forehead against it to take in every detail. 

His Keyblade’s out, he’s launching all sorts of lightning, cool!

Fighting a...Iron Imprisoner, I don’t recall what stage. There’s three of ‘em, right? And one of those bosses that you (the player) only fought at the...

Mirage Arena. 

I nearly smack myself. “Well, now I feel dumb.”

No wonder the name is so familiar. But Mirage Arena was just a one-off, an extra for arena fights. What does it mean for it to  _ actually exist  _ in the Kingdom Hearts universe?

...The same way Save Points do. The soundtrack that plays here in these Dream worlds. There’s something in that, itching at my brain. The connection somewhere...

What could it be?

(“You fell. From-”)

Footsteps interrupt my thoughts. Hm, maybe Xehanort’s back. From wherever Vanilla said he wandered off to.  _ Feels _ like Xehanort, the hum of a violin, and I’m going to look into why I think that later. 

I look over. And nearly die at who I see. 

Wrong Xehanort! Walking towards me. Stopping once he sees me. 

Beans. 

All of my saliva dries instantly. I almost choke at the sudden desert my mouth has become. 

_ Old Man Xehanort?!  _ What, what, what?! Xemnas isn’t even gone yet, to recomplete him, what is he doing here? 

Wait. I look at him and through the corner of my eye, catch Terra moving far below. 

Time. It’s different. It must be. For both of them to be here at once...

And there are no rules in Kingdom Hearts about having the same person exist in multiple ways at the same time, otherwise Norting couldn’t be a thing. 

“This is the wrong time, you know,” I try out. 

“You know I am from your past,” the old Xehanort notes. “Clever.”

I would try to swallow, but for my mouth desert. “Ten years, right?”

“Is that how long it shall be?” Xehanort looks over the fight below us. He seems unbothered by the revelation. Of information I  _ probably  _ shouldn’t have given him. 

Oh man. 

“Uh, maybe I should leave now, nice meeting you...” I trail off, as I slowly inch my way to the end of the hallway. 

His next words stop me right in my tracks. 

“Getting the materia here will not fix your Heart for good.”

He continues, seeing he’s caught my attention. Says words that I  _ definitely  _ don’t want to hear from him, of all people. 

“You’ll have to become one of my vessels for that to occur.”

I narrow my eyes. Shove down my snarl. 

Darn Xehanorts, all so convinced I’ll just...go along with his plan. With giving up my body for some stupid game that’ll get me killed. 

“I would  _ never  _ do that.” Oops, out comes that snarl.

Xehanort hums. His hands are behind his back, as he turns his head towards me. His yellow eyes bore into me. Freezes me in place, an unfortunate rabbit to the figurative hawk. 

“You are already losing control.”

Huh? My body loses its stiffness as I just  _ stare  _ at him. My heart beats as fast as ever, though. Burning blood in my veins. 

Losing control? But...that’s not a question. I  _ am  _ losing control. What else can I call my complete loss of self, as I threw myself in a suicide attack I  _ can’t even remember,  _ at Ultimecia?

...What will I do next?

Xehanort continues, smug now that he’s got my attention. “Your Heart, in its current state, is collapsing. Soon it will succumb. All that will be left...”

Very dramatic, that pause. Guess I gotta play along. 

“Yes?”

“A raving monster that will seek out who you cared about the most and  _ devour  _ them.”

Sounds like a Heartless. Which...man, if my Heart’s pretty broken up, would I even survive being put back together? I squint up at him. “And becoming a vessel would fix that...how, exactly?”

White gloved fingers tap against his arm. Wait, when exactly did he move his hands? I need to pay better attention. Just in case. 

“My Darkness will simply...fill in the cracks. Allow your Heart to stay whole and you to remain yourself.”

“Wouldn’t you just want a puppet? Why promise me my mind?” I ask skeptically. 

Wait. That’s probably not a course of inquiry I want to go into. Step back. Slowly...

A hoarse laugh. Sounds more like the laugh of the first voice actor for Xehanort, than any of the latter ones...what was his name again?

More importantly, he’s talking to me some more. Start listening again, I guess?

“A willing ally is worth far more than a puppet dragged along in my wake.” Yellow eyes gleam. “Besides, you already know what I want, don’t you? There will be no lies between us.”

I swallow. Slowly. That’s...heavy. A trust that I don’t feel comfortable carrying, considering the source. Is it trust? I don’t have a better word for it than that. Probably not.

...Exactly what happens in my future and his past, for a reaction like  _ that? _

“Will you join me?”

I choke. “No!”

The old man isn’t surprised by my refusal. Doesn’t take offense, thankfully. Don’t know what I would do if he did. 

...Probably die. Painfully. I shiver at the thought. 

“Very well. Only to be expected, at this time,” Xehanort states. 

My fingers go up to dig in my cheek. “Hey, you can’t say that! I’m picking not to join now or ever! Decision made!”

“Is it Fate if it has already occurred?” the old man asks with a sense of victory. 

I scrunch up my nose. “Not for me it hasn’t.”

I’ll change it. Sora changed the past in Kingdom Hearts III, didn’t he? I’m no protagonist, but surely my choice will win over. 

I  _ won’t.  _ Not now, not ever. I’m no vessel, no tool to be thrown away. 

I won’t die for Xehanort. 

Fold my arms over my chest. “Go away. I’ll break Fate if I have to.”

Another rusty laugh. Xehanort turns away. “No, you will not.”

I narrow my eyes and turn on my heel. Whatever. He’s the type to always have the last word. It doesn’t matter so much that I win, really, then. Not when he’ll just go on  _ forever.  _

But, wait, what about Terra? Could I meet him, warn him somehow?

My fingers dig into my scar. That might break my future, erase  _ me _ ...but shouldn’t I try? I’ll just see, that’s all. 

Even if I don’t manage to warn him, it would be cool to talk to him. Let him know that things will (probably) turn out alright in the end. 

They have to. 

I turn to look again and he’s...gone. Glancing through the window, the arena with Terra fighting in it is gone too. 

Just me in an empty hallway. Like nothing ever happened. 

Fodder for a thousand and one ghost stories. 

Well. Guess I can’t test to see if the Grandfather Paradox is real or not. Most likely a good thing, in my case. 

“Ummmm.”

Footsteps. More footsteps. Feels like Xehanort,  _ again? _

“Ruse, you’re awake.” It’s the younger one, the one I’ve been hanging out with most recently. Full head of hair and everything. His eyes are just as yellow, just as bright as his older self’s, as he looks me over. Asks me questions. “How is your health? Did they explain what’s wrong?”

I look at him, a smile stuck on my face like glue. Look and think, 

I can’t trust you. 

Not when your future wants to devour mine. 

“Yeah. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Liar. 


	45. Despite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are reunions that start in fights and end in fights, a Princess ready to fight, and an exchange. Our Hero moves onward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I've been attacked by rabid squirrel muses? Help?

Tron looks like a human. Which makes sense since he talks like one, but...Kairi isn’t sure what. Sora’s animal people friends talk like humans but don’t look like them. 

Tron’s just...grey and blue. Glowing. Like they all are right now, a side effect of being in a computer, Kairi’s pretty sure. 

Since they definitely did not look like this before the computer. 

“Stay back! That’s a virus!” Tron points at...Xion. Who had just let him out. 

Xion shrinks back. 

Kairi looks her over. Sure, she’s green instead of blue, but surely that doesn’t make too much of a difference? Maybe it’s the symbol on her chest, a spikey almost-heart, kinda like a Heartless symbol. 

She shakes her head. “No, Xion’s not a virus. Anymore than Naminé or I are.”

Tron very clearly thinks this over, looking her and Naminé up and down, then examining Xion more closely. 

“I’m sorry.” Tron actually looks sorry too, as he turns towards Xion. “I made an error in my calculations.”

“It’s okay,” Xion says.

“Are  _ you _ okay?” Naminé asks very seriously. Her glow is brighter than everyone else’s as she asks, the rabbit-program nibbling at her feet. She tugs at the purple cloth on her wrist. 

Xion’s breath stutters. “Y-yes? I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Kairi checks. 

Xion’s cheeks glow green, the same color as her current stripes, as she nods. “Yes. Very sure.”

“But if you’re Users...” Tron continues, “You shouldn’t stay here, it’s not safe!”

Hm. He has a point, judging by what happened to get them here. 

“Well...they did lock us up...” Kairi thinks out loud. “But how do we get out?”

“We should find another console,” Xion inputs. 

“Or maybe an AI that controls the area? They would be able to do it too,” Naminé suggests. 

The three turn to Tron expectedly. 

He makes a motion like a shocked blink. “Whoa, you are extremely well-informed Users.”

“Well?” Naminé prompts. Her rabbit sneezes and pats at her skirt. 

“The AI that is currently serving as overseer is the MCP, who trapped us here. So we must find another console that provides User access.”

He points at a computer blocky thing, right outside the cell area. “This one may work. Allow me to check.”

Kairi nods. “Alright.”

They wait and watch as Tron taps at some screen like the one that brought them here. 

Tron eventually shakes his head. “The MCP must have cut our connection to the outside world. We’ll have to find another way out.”

“Where would that be?”

Just then the rabbit hiccups. There really isn’t a better description for the sound it makes, than a hiccup. 

His belly glows and a voice speaks. A very familiar voice. 

-ome in, this is Even. Where are you?”

“Hello, Even,” Kairi says politely. 

Tron whispers, “Who is this?”

“Someone on the outside,” Xion explains briefly. “We need to get back out to him.”

“Ah.”

As for Even. “Good. And...wait. What.”

A pause. 

“This is a...rabbit.” Even’s voice sounds...strangled by the realization he’s speaking out of a rabbit. Which is weird, Kairi won’t lie. 

“A Linking Program, actually,” Naminé chips in. She tugs at her bracelet again. 

Throat clearing. Sounding even weirder coming from a plush rabbit.

“Ahem. You’ll need to get to the Canyon. Then from there the Dataspace, it appears that is the quickest method.”

“Ah, I can get you there,” Tron says with a firm nod. “We’ll be careful, to avoid getting derezzed.”

“I see. Will you go through th-”

“Enemy Programs! Watch out!” Tron interrupts, as monsters fall from above. Kairi almost doesn’t get out of the way in time, only saved by Naminé’s quick shove and Aero. 

These enemy programs look a lot like Heartless, Kairi notices. Same symbol and sort of eyes and everything. 

The bigger ones are purple while the smaller quicker ones are red and...the same color as Xion. If just a little more yellow. Oh, no wonder Tron thought Xion was an enemy. 

Xion hums and she’s thoughtful when Kairi looks over at her, so she’s probably thinking the same thing. 

Which is good. 

Great minds think alike and all that, right?

The Program’s Heart symbol flashes, symbolizing the return of Even’s voice. 

“Is the fight done? Good. So you have to go-”

The journey goes...interestingly. Even keeps making comments through Naminé’s Program, no matter how useless they are. Every once in a while he and Tron get into an “argument” where Tron patiently corrects the directions with a “I know that you are very stupid but I’m not going to say how stupid” kind of aura and Even hisses like a squashed cat. At least Even provides some helpful advice for monster weaknesses, despite his sucking at directions. 

Xion takes care of most of the enemy Program things with her Keyblade (and Fire, every once in a while), Tron helping with strange spiky boxes. 

Naminé casts spells like Gravity for some of the especially big foes, flattening them in their tracks. 

Kairi...wants to help. But how? She doesn’t have any weapons, any spells...

(Something inside stirs.)

“Naminé, could you teach me how to cast a Cure or something?” she asks. If Naminé and Xion are both fighting, then the least Kairi can do is support. 

She talked to Goofy about it once, while Donald was showing off Fire tricks to Sora. 

How important support is, even if it isn’t as flashy as big attack magic or Keyblades. 

“Support,” Goofy had said, “Keeps the flashy stuff coming by making sure no one dies.”

It would be nice, Kairi thinks, to stop people from dying for her. 

(Like Sora stabbing himself, disappearing in her arms-!)

Naminé looks her over carefully, eyes bright like stars. 

Hard to know what she’s thinking. It’s hard to know what both Naminé and Xion are thinking, compared to the people Kairi’s known all her life. 

She’ll learn, in the end. She has to, to keep up. 

“...once we get out,” the Nobody eventually allows. “It’s harder here.”

“I can try,” Xion volunteers. “Cure isn’t super hard.”

“It’s harder when you’re fighting all the time,” Naminé points out, fingers intertwining with each other in front of her. “The enemies just keep coming.”

She gestures to the example of Tron ahead of them currently scaring off  _ more  _ Heartless. Seriously, where do they keep coming from?

Xion looks blank. “I learned it like that.”

“She’s a  _ Somebody, _ ” Naminé stresses, placing odd emphasis on the word. “They’re more...fragile.”

Kairi opens her mouth about to speak. She feels almost offended but also kind of cut off from this because she doesn’t  _ really  _ want to learn in the middle of fights. Also...where did Xion come from, to be apparently fighting  _ all the time?  _

She’s good with her Keyblade...but what happened for her to get so good?

A cough, the sound of something getting knocked over, through the Linking Program, grabs everyone’s attention. 

The next words, even more so. 

“Ansem-!” Even sputters, “What are  _ you _ do-”

The line goes dead. Nothing more comes out of the Linking Program.

Naminé looks worried and so does Xion. Kairi’s pretty sure she’s the same. 

Ansem...Kairi’s only heard of one Ansem. The Heartless that Sora fought, the Heartless that should be  _ dead.  _

Anyone with that name...can’t be good. Even might be in trouble. 

“We need to hurry.”

* * *

So.

Here’s the situation: his old Master, Ansem the Wise, (the man Even betrayed) is back. Calling himself  _ DiZ  _ like Even wouldn’t recognize his voice, his eyes, a thousand other small details that make Ansem  _ Ansem.  _

Even would know him right away. Does know him right away. 

And that’s without constantly catching glimpses of him, through Ruse’s eyes and thoughts. 

So, yes. Even knows who hides behind the red, the facemask. 

In another time, another place, Even might have apologized. Deeply apologized for how he had wronged his old Master, for throwing him away into the Dark. Regrets a plenty.

In another time, another place, Even does not have a thousand fragments of what his Master became, in the Dark. Has been doing to individuals who did not deserve his ire. 

Now, he will not apologize. 

He glares at him, putting his body between Ansem and the keyboard. “Ansem! What are  _ you  _ doing here?”

Behind him, the connection to the girls cuts out. He’ll have to finish this up quick, get back to them and Tron. 

Ruse has only ever called him DiZ. 

Even, as Vexen, as the voice in her head, had contemplated telling her the truth of the man, but had always put it off. 

Perhaps some part of him, even then, had not wanted to link the actions of DiZ to the softer man he recalled. 

(Before they betrayed him.)

Ruse doesn’t trust DiZ. Never trusted him from the start. Because the Organization ruined her, broke her of thinking about going to adults for help. 

Even...regrets. His actions only led to doors being closed instead of opened, with Ruse. 

She hates him for good, solid reasons. 

Her reasons for hating DiZ are more...nebulous, but in other ways just as solid as her hate for Vexen. If not more so. 

Vexen never made cruel cutting comments about Nobodies in Naminé’s hearing, after all. Even as DiZ assisted, he was never quite...kind about it. 

Or unkind muttering complaints about Ruse, when he thought she wasn’t paying attention and Riku wasn’t around. Which she wasn’t, most of the time. But Vexen had been. Listening, that is. 

It shouldn’t matter. Even did worse as Vexen. Ruse is a successful creation, that is all. 

Yet it still matters. 

“I should be asking you that,  _ traitor,”  _ Ansem’s deep voice echoes through the large room. 

Even narrows his eyes. “Go plot your revenge elsewhere, I am  _ busy  _ at the moment.”

It’s not like his old Master will kill him anyway. No, he’ll just leave that to heroic children in his stead. 

(Not that Even’s any better. Probably worse, really.)

“Even...due to the experiments conducted here, this World  _ fell. _ ” He says it like it matters, says like Ansem the Wise didn’t start all of this. “That cannot go unanswered.”

That hypocrisy...leaves Even almost ill in a way a Nobody never could have been. 

“You were  _ weak, Master,”  _ Even spits, “Refusing to say no when it mattered, refusing to take responsibility for the door that  _ you  _ opened! You started those experiments and ran away when it grew too much for you!”

“You took that research to the next level and made  _ monsters  _ of yourselves,” Ansem accuses. “Creatures with no right to existence.”

Now, that. That is  _ quite  _ enough. 

“I  _ didn’t ask for it!”  _ Even snarls. He throws his hands up. “Despise me for my choices, but do not disparage me for the ones I  _ did not make!” _

Orange eyes still manage to give the impression of shock, despite the rest of the man’s face being carefully covered. “Wh-?!”

One wrapped hand reaches down to claw at his own chest. His now-human heart beats faster. 

(“No! Not the boy! Not Ienzo!”)

“You may have spent years in the Dark but you have no idea what it feels like to have your Heart  _ torn from your chest.” _

(Empty in his chest. Nothing matters. Why would it matter? Did it ever matter? Lost his heart, lost...what did he lose?)

“Now leave, and take your idiotic disguise with you.” Even turns. Back to the computer, back to the children trapped inside its mainframe. “I have work to do.”

Silence. Then, gods above and below, the sound of footsteps moving away. The sound of the Master  _ actually leaving.  _

A breath escapes Even from the tightness of his chest. The pressure there does not lighten, regardless. 

Even loved Ansem, once. As a friend, as a leader, and once as something more. 

He does not think he will love him again. 

Perhaps they may learn to tolerate each other once more. But love?

That bird has long since flown. 

Now...

Bandaged fingers tighten into fists, aching from the pressure put upon them. 

Too much has changed, too much is different. 

The past is a heavy burden to bear.

Even sighs and reaches for the keys. Clicks in a code, opens up the window.

“ _ Even, are you still there?” _

Kairi. The Princess from Destiny Islands. No time for emotion. 

“Yes. Everything is taken care of. Now, where are you currently?”

There is work to be done. 

* * *

Cool of Merlin to give Sora some more magic tips, since he’s not very good at casting spells after his nap. Almost a year-long nap, weird. 

He does sleep a lot, though. Maybe it’s not really surprising that he slept so long, with that in mind. 

None of this, none of these whirling thoughts, are helping with what’s  _ really  _ important. 

Finding Riku. Finding his missing friend, who disappeared into the Dark with a smile. 

Sora slams his hands on the table, standing up. “We’re going to go find Riku right now!” he announces. “No more waiting!”

He leaves in a whirlwind, before Donald and Goofy can do anything to stop. Has to move, move, move.

Just in time to catch a stranger moving outside in the street. 

There’s a man. In a black coat. Standing just outside. He freezes as soon as he sees Sora. 

There are other people there too, smaller people with smaller voices.

But Sora’s world has focused on that man for some reason. Just  _ him.  _

A hum, in Sora’s chest. A name, on his lips, that leaves him as soon as he opens up his mouth speak. 

“Who are you?”

The man in the coat doesn’t answer. Instead he summons a familiar-looking sword and raises. Ready to fight. 

Three...tiny people, hover around him. 

“Buzz off!” The yellow one demands. 

“That’s right,” the black one agrees, arms folded over her chest. “Places to be.”

“So get out of our way!” the third, in blue, finishes. Some kinda magic sparks around her, flaring up. Ready to fight too.

“You won’t win!” Donald waves his staff, sparking up the beginnings of a Thunder. 

Goofy readies his shield. “Gosh, Merlin might’ve mentioned one of those folks were here.”

“Well, they’re here so we’ll fight!” Sora summons his Keyblade. 

“It’s your fault!” One of the fairies disagrees. 

“Enough.” The man finally speaks. Deep and...

Something in Sora’s Heart gives a tug. 

“I know you, you’re...”

He’s moving, body moving faster than his thoughts. 

“Sora, what are you doing?”

“Sora, stop!”

But now, he knows, he  _ knows  _ and he doesn’t know how but he does!

“Riku!” Sora launches himself through the air, wrapping his arms around Riku. 

The body stiffens under his. “Sora?” That voice is wrong, is too deep, like how Riku is too tall, but Sora  _ knows him.  _

He’s found him!

Sora’s...crying. When did that happen?

He’s crying and he’s wrapped around Riku like one of those special cuddle octopus and Riku’s awkwardly patting him on the back, trying to get him to let go. 

That, more than anything, really assures him that this is  _ Riku.  _ Not anyone else. 

That, and his Heart. 

_ His, his, his,  _ he wants to sing, to hum. 

(Devour him. So he can never go away ever again.)

Riku’s back. 

Sora can...go home. 

With Kairi...

They can be home. Together. 

* * *

Ruse’s usual smile appears unusually stiff.

Xehanort hides a frown, looking her over. 

“Are you certain you are uninjuried?” he checks again. 

“Not gonna let me pass without saying anything, huh?” Her smile is weak as she lets out a breath. “Sooo...you ever do that thing where you turn around the corner and see a shadow in a mirror and it scares the crap out of you?”

Rather detailed. Yet something he could see her doing all too well. 

“I was unaware that there were mirrors to do that with around here.”

Ruse scratches at her face, at her scars, laughing awkwardly. “Yeeaah...my bad!”

Something else is off. But Xehanort can be patient. Ruse usually talks, in time. He nods and falls into step beside her. 

She’s jumpy and wincing as she walks, so still injured. Considering how severely injured she had been...he’s not surprised. 

(Green blood splattered all over the floors, the walls...her bones shattered, yet she still struggles to stand. Her teeth bared, her eyes gleaming red...vicious beyond compare. 

Only one course of action he can take now. One spell he can cast.

“Sleep.”)

So much information he gained here, beyond what he first thought, bringing Ruse here.

A worthwhile decision. For multiple reasons. 

That woman, Vanille, had called him a Caster. A Spirit focused on Magical Attack power, often with yellow eyes. A decent enough cover, considering that he is not a Dream Eater at all. Enough to allow him to partake in the arena fights without too much of a hassle. 

But the idea of changing their growth in certain areas with as a simple of an action as consuming another Dream Eater...

Could you make different and new Heartless, influence their abilities by giving them the Hearts of certain individuals? Is that how Emblem Heartless are, and will be created?

Xehanort is certainly interested in testing that theory out, when the time comes. 

He allows his eyes to look over Ruse discreetly. She’s busy poking at some light in the wall, too busy to notice his intent. 

Changing her growth or “Focus,” as a Dream Eater would definitely explain the eye color change he’s previously noted. The symbol on her chest she’s newly received, the symbol that she bore at their first meeting. 

As for other features, other markings...time will tell.

“You find anything interesting?” 

Xehanort considers. To her mind...

“Nothing too much so.”

But...there is something he bought while exploring. Plenty of munny to spare. 

Xehanort pulls out soft fabric. 

He offers her a bandana. A blue and pink one, patterned with white heart outlines, that he got off some Moogle vendor.

He even took his gloves off, to test its texture. 

Paid a little extra, to get a X symbol added to its seams, just in case. Ruse is stupidly easy to track for some unknown reason, but extra assistance never hurts. 

“Here.”

Ruse’s eyes widen. “For me? Really?” She accepts it eagerly, tying the cloth around her head in her usual fashion right away. The fabric actually goes with her Dark Suit (what he can see of it, under her oversized jacket) pretty well. 

“Hey...” Xehanort gets a side-glance of suspicion shortly after she adjusts the cloth right to her satisfaction. “How’d you know about that?”

She tugs at her bandana.

Xehanort closes his eyes for a second. Remembering. 

(“Hey, why’d you wear a bandana on your head instead of a helmet?”

A wide almost-bloodthirsty smile, accompanied by a broad wink. “Keeps the blood out of my hair, duh!”

Much quieter, quiet enough that only he can hear from right next to her, “A reminder. Of a friend.”)

“We’ve met before.”

“Ah, time shenanigans.” Ruse nods wisely. “Of course.”

She puts her hands on her hips. “Guess that means I owe you a present now.”

Xehanort almost closes his eyes again, pained. “Please don’t.”

At least she’s not singing that strange song of hers again...

“Nope. Can’t stop me.”

Ruse bounces on her heels, only once, wincing in pain and stopping afterwards. “I’m gonna go talk with Vanille and R- ergh, forget her name. What was it, again?”

“Fang,” Xehanort provides. Since it is most likely the brown-haired Spirit Ruse is currently referring to. 

Another frown. “Really? Hm, wonder why I was thinking Rook...well, coming?”

He considers. “Why not.”

“Alright, meet you there?” Ruse proposes.

Xehanort blinks. “What are y-?”

“Bye!” Ruse takes off at a breakneck pace. Nearly crushing some passing Nightmares in the process, who squeak out of the way. 

Xehanort curses. Why is she  _ like this? _

He considers chasing after her. But no. 

He can just Dark Corridor there. 

Perfect. 

* * *

Xehanort’s waiting for me with a smug look on his face when I arrive, panting and huffing. 

Jerk. 

But, really, about what I expected. 

My hands dig into my thighs as I take in as much as air as I can at one time. Aching. Everything aches and shivers. 

Owww.

Bad decision to run here. Owww.

Thankfully, the two Spirits are still there in the infirmary place. Would feel silly if they weren’t. 

“Oh, are you okay?” Vanille’s hands flutter about as she hurries towards me. 

Fang shakes her head. “You should eat more,” she informs me, all matter-of-factly. Taps the end of her spear against the floor. “More energy to burn, faster healing.”

“...Makes sense,” I allow. I am pretty hungry now, though I did fill myself up before going out after Xehanort. 

Before running into the older Xehanort. 

...I don’t really want to think about that right now. I need to, so I don’t forget exactly who I’m dealing with. 

No matter what bribes I get. Need to pay him back somehow. Can’t remain uneven.

“Your bandana looks very nice.” Vanille smiles. Bright and happy and a thousand other things. Good things, probably. 

I match her smile back. “Thank you!”

She twirls. Twinkles, almost. “I made dinner!”

The dinner she provides is bland like the last meal. But still filling. Xehanort doesn’t eat any, I can’t help but notice. Same with Fang. Only me and Vanille eat. 

I eye them suspiciously. And Vanille too. Seems more like this “dinner” is mostly a meal for me and me alone, for more healing. 

Whatever. I won’t call them out on it. 

Fang and Vanille discuss...stuff in the background of my chewing. Quiet enough that I can't catch what they’re saying. Hmmm. 

Xehanort’s eyes are bright. But so are Fang’s and Vanille’s. Someone could believe that they’re connected. 

I wonder if my eyes are the same. They probably are. 

Time for that question I’ve been putting off. “What’s a Caster?”

The discussion stops as they turn towards. I feel mildly guilty for a few seconds before I wave it away. It’s okay that I interrupted, someone would tell me. Right?

It’s fine, has to be fine. 

Fang jerks her head towards Xehanort. “That’s what he is. Yellow eyes mean higher Magic.”

“But I thought Vanille had higher magic, since she’s a Mage.” Not to mention that Xehanort isn’t a Dream Eater...

Vanille laughs. “No, silly, a Mage Focuses on Magic  _ Defense,  _ while a Caster ups Magical Attack. Of course, not all of them align just so like that...”

I look at Xehanort. Lift an eyebrow. “You do that?”

Yellow eyes glare at me, telling me not to say anything about his not-Dream Eater status. I mean, that’s the most likely thing he wants me to shut about at the moment. 

“Apparently I will once I gain some strength.” He sounds almost offended by the thought, that he isn’t already at full power. 

Which judging by this older self...he isn’t. Sorry dude. 

I grin at him. “I look forward to it.”

Another glare, like he can tell what I’m thinking. 

Heh. 

“Caster-Guardian pairs make good teams,” Fang continues. She stretches out her arms above her head. “Not as good as Mage-Warrior pairings, but most aren’t.”

“What about Bonds? You mentioned that earlier.” Mixed in with the should have been paste at Ultimecia’s hands stuff. “How it helps with control, I think.”

Vanille and Fang exchange a Look. That can’t be good. 

“Well, Spirits specifically are made for a purpose. An Oath,” Vanille begins to explain, “The Bond is when you’re connected with a non-Dream Eater that you protect or fight for, really.”

Ah, now that’s territory I’m more familiar with, straight from Dream Drop Distance. 

I nod. “Makes sense.”

The pair look relieved for some reason. My eyes twitch over to Xehanort who looks about as suspicious as I currently feel. Hmmm. I’m gonna have to look into that eventually. But first, my dinner. Time to finish it up. 

“You should rest,” Vanille gently suggests, after I’m finished. 

My sore body agrees. Loudly. 

I look around in the clearly medical-oriented area. “In here?”

“No one will argue.” Fang shrugs, leaning back against the wall. “You’re still injured, after all.”

“What about him?” I point at Xehanort, who looks surprised that I would do so. Yeah, right, dude, you’re not escaping this. No way. 

If I’m sleeping, so are you. 

Fang stands up. “Yeah, you should too, kid. You’ve been running around all cycle.”

Xehanort looks flabbergasted by this perceived betrayal. “I am f-”

“Say fine and I tackle you, breaking every bone in my body in the process,” I sweetly inform him. “Because that’s where I’m at right now.”

“No, don’t do that!” Vanille, of course. Providing just the right amount of protest. 

With the combined forces of our glares (and Fang threatening to hogtie him), Xehanort slowly lays down on one of the beds. He doesn’t take his coat off, but hey. It’s a victory. 

I follow soon after, picking the bed I woke up in, blankets still a mess. 

The bed is soft. My bones don’t hurt, laying on it. 

I lay there. Thinking. Too much space to think in. 

It would be easier if things were black and white. If this younger Xehanort was a complete asshole like his future (or present?) counterpart all the time. If he didn’t get me a bandana because he recalls me having one. 

Though I will have to check it later...see if there’s anything extra I should know. 

Easier to get angry, like it was with Vexen. I  _ want  _ to be angry because angry means I don’t have to think about black blood on my hands, shredding a man apart, while the ghost of that same man tells me I should eat more like some overbearing parental figure. Not caring at all that I  _ dismembered him, murdered him.  _

...I’m a horrible murderer. 

But I don’t want to kill people. Monsters are better, easier. 

(Monsters give me materia to eat and no guilt on my mind.)

It’s easy to lose control while angry, though. If I’m always angry, I’ll fall into the traps Xehanort is sure to set. 

So I can’t be. Angry, that is. 

Just...careful. That’s all. 

My arms wrap around my middle. I curl up, as if to protect myself. 

But I can’t protect myself from me, can I? Or protect Naminé, or the Replica trapped inside my skull. 

(Man, I’m pretty bad at this hero thing, aren’t I?)

I miss Naminé. A lot. My chest aches, but that might just be the overall soreness. 

There’s a hand on my shoulder. Warm. Comforting. The thrum of a violin, with the softness of a piano and pattering of drums. There’s more to the songs I hear than that, of course, but those instruments are the clearest. 

...When was the last time I got a hug? I want hugs again. 

“Sleep,” Vanille whispers. Her piano, her song, is loudest of all at this moment. 

And I do. 

Dream of blue and green light, of a world inside of a computer. 

* * *

“Stay out!” The Replica currently residing in the Heart of Ruse slams his sword against the newly boarded up door. 

The stupid thing keeps whispering at him.  _ Lux, lux.  _

Threatening to tear itself off the hinges once more, let that Nightmare in. 

But he can’t...do anything. Beyond what he’s already done. 

He sits in front of the door, rests his back against the purple wood. 

_ “My tool, my pet, my seer, come back to me.” _

One day, it  _ will  _ open. The Dread behind it will come through again. 

_ “I have your Name. Come back.” _

That day...

He isn’t sure who will survive it. 

Only that he and Ruse  _ must.  _ No matter what that growling voice whispers. 

_ “Fate will fail. And when it does...” _

A rumble that runs through his blood, his bones. The Replica shakes. 

_ “I will remake it. This story called Kingdom Hearts...is ours.” _

“You won’t.” His fist tightens. “You won’t,” he repeats. 

_ “Oh? And who will stop me?”  _ For once, the voice actually responds to him. Makes him want to shrink back, retreat. 

He did that once. He won’t again. 

“I will.”

A grumbling laugh.  _ “Oh? Who challenges me, first among Nightmares, commander of Darklings, remnant of the Daybreak?” _

He takes a breath in. Lets it out.

“I stand against you. My name is-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s your reminder that canonically the Apprentices became Nobodies as a result of Xehanort going “here’s Johnny!” on everyone and there is pretty much no way for anyone outside of their group to know that.   
> And I still don’t understand why that happened. What the hell, Xehanort...
> 
> Ruse aligns mostly to a Savage Skelterwild, due to her Wild Fantasy Core, Blizzard Attribute, and Dark Style. I’m still fiddling with Xion and Riku Replica (name already determined).   
> Of course, Spirit stats don’t line up exactly with my worldbuilding but I’m rather fond of the idea of those sorting categories being more like guidelines anyway with how nebulous Kingdom Hearts can be.


	46. Define

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a name is given, two searches for missing Replicas commence, Vexen does Science, and our Hero has a bit of a breakdown. Again.

Destati. 

A song that captures the mystical reaching aspect of the Kingdom Hearts games. It’s one of my favorites, a song that captured my imagination from the very beginning. 

As I wandered (as Sora) across stained glass princesses, reading mysterious words from an unseen speaker off-screen, I knew there was something...different about this game. This Kingdom Hearts. 

A mystery, a magic, that captures me to this day. 

The music plays in this dream of mine. I float downwards, through the Dark, to a Light. 

That Light shapes itself into a platform. A Station of Awakening. _My_ Station of Awakening. I touch down, and the glass creaks underneath me. 

“Sweet!” A landmark occasion, I don’t think you even become a proper Kingdom Hearts protagonist without some stained glass opening showing you the way!

Awesome. Achievement unlocked!

The glass over all is very purple-ly, other than my body in my new Dark Suit. Crystal background, crystal like the Heart dreams with Riku Replica. Dream Eater symbols everywhere. The faces...I note Naminé, Riku (or Riku Replica...), _Vexen,_ before I turn away to examine the rest of the platform. 

But as I look it over, I noticed other details. Ones slightly less overt. 

My body...is turned on the wrong side. 

Hm, maybe that’s not clear. 

What I mean is this: look, for most Station of Awakenings, the sleeping faces face left. Their left sides are up. 

For mine, the _right_ side is up. My scarred up side. The scars are made of purple glass that shimmer in different shades. Broken. 

Very Riku-like otherwise...which makes sense, seeing how I don’t actually recall what my old body looked like. Something I’m gonna stop thinking about, now. 

Or I might end up puking on my glass face. 

My hands...what is glass-me holding?

I walk over, boots clinking against the ground as I check. Creaking. 

Hm. Nothing.

That’s odd. I’ve thought that I would be holding some sort of shield at the least...but not all Stations have weapons on them, I guess. 

Why do I _feel_ like something should be there, though...?

(“You can’t hurt me. Why even try?”

The shards cut into my palms, as I pant. Sob for breath.)

I frown. A flicker of...what? A memory? A nightmare?

Hmmm. 

The platform shivers under my feet. All too delicate. 

There are hairline cracks _everywhere._ Like should I breathe, my Heart will shatter. 

Well, I guess that’s one way to know that Xehanort wasn’t lying. For once. 

“Ruse.”

I look up. “Oh, you’re here too. Of course.”

Riku Replica. Walking over to me. Click click goes boots on glass. 

He shrugs. He looks...different. Something about his Dark Suit? More black than dark blue now, red replacing the usual cream skirt, more like Vanitas’.

“Where else would I be? I’m in your Heart now.”

“You pull me here?” I check. 

He nods. “Yes. I have something to tell you.”

Oh? “I’m listening.”

Riku Replica visibly steels himself, straightens his entire body. “Rook.”

“Rook? Wha- Oh!” I brighten, grinning wide enough to split my face. “Your new name! I love it!”

Rook relaxes at my response. “Thank you.” He folds his arms over his chest. “I had to pick a good one before you gave me a stupid nickname and that stuck.”

That’s...not wrong?

“You know me too well,” I inform him proudly. “Excellent pick, go with the R- four letter word theme we've got going here.”

“Wait, what?”

“Birds are cool, I must say. Especially crow-like birds.” Wait. “Is that why your Dark Suit is different now?”

Rook blinks. “What?” He looks himself over, and I examine him more closely as well. 

I grab onto the back of his shoulder, grasping some new shadowy material. “You’ve got...a cape!” Wait. I pull it out further. “...Wings?”

“I have wings?” Rook cranes over his shoulder for a look. Then shakes his head. “No, it’s a cape like you said. Made of really long black feathers.”

“Oh, okay.” I let go. The marking on his chest is red, but it’s a red version of the symbol I now cart around instead of a heart. Cool. 

Red and black...how edgy of him. Maybe it’ll change with time, like mine did. 

“Whoa, you look good. Name change, suit change, you’re ready to go.”

Rook nods decisively. “Guess so.”

He folds his arms over his chest. Looking me over too. 

“Time to fight over the body now, I guess.”

I pause. Because really? Those Roxas-Sora fights, Vanitas-Ventus fights...that’s mandatory?

“That’s stupid.”

Rook shrugs. “I don’t make the rules. But since I don’t really want to win...how about we have some fun with this?”

I consider it. Agree. “Sure! A play fight, then.”

“Good.” Rook’s sword comes out and he readies himself in a stance that’s...not Riku’s. Not holding the blade over his head, beckoning. Instead the sword’s pointed off the side, downwards, while his feet are more spaced in a triangle than a straight line. 

Looks...familiar. I _know_ it. Saw it plenty of times in Birth By Sleep, actually. 

“...Aqua? Where’d you get her moves from?”

Rook twists his sword back and forth, examining it. Still keeping it pointed down. “When Riku fought her in the Realm of Darkness, I was with him. I observed how she fought, controlled by Darkness.”

He looks up. 

“But you knew about that fight already, don’t you?”

I nod. 

“Yeah, one point, I kinda want to know how you know a lot about...well, pretty much everyone. But that’s for later.”

I nod again. “And I’ll tell you,” I promise. If anyone deserves to know the truth in its entirety, it’s the person who handed over his past to me. I’ll tell him. 

“Alright.” Rook nods back, satisfied. “Get ready.”

“Let’s go!” I sweep out with Frozen Pride, shooting out ice with the gesture. 

He swifty twists around the shots with Aqua-isk cartwheel, dashing towards me. 

I tank the hit. Go for a shield bash back. 

Rook skips back out of reach. 

We test each other this way for a bit, Rook following Aqua’s lighter dodges and moveset while I stick to Vexen’s shield methods and ice. 

Speeding up, upon the brightly colored glass. A dance, a spar, as fast as my heart will beat and allow. 

I knock him back. 

His eyes narrow. “Let’s try something else.”

He spreads out his arms. Creating a multitude of copies, vanishing among them. 

Oh man. Oh frick. I’m so bad at these kinds of games. 

I go through several illusions with my shield, nearly falling over in the process. Rook lands a few taps on my back as a result. “You’re not trying hard enough!”

Too many copies...which is real?

If Arrogant Abstract let me see the real Xion, then maybe it’ll let me see the real Rook. I summon it, give it a try, as the multiples swirl around trying to brain me. 

Ah. 

Shadows, now. With one _real_ Rook among them. Perfect. 

“Illusion breaker?” Rook observes, after I nearly break his nose. 

I tilt Arrogant Abstract for him to better see it. “Got it off Zexion’s Memory fragment thingy.”

“Unfair you got that, for fighting Zexion. Better than illusions,” Rook complains. 

“Want a try?” I offer up the shield.

Rook’s tempted, I can see it in his eyes. But in the end, he shakes his head. “Another time. Let’s keep this going.”

“Right.” I vanish Arrogant Abstract and call out Sworn Oath. My final shield. “One last match?”

“Winner takes all,” Rook agrees. 

I beckon him with two fingers. “C’mon. Hit me.”

We dance into motion once more. 

He cuts me up. I bash him up. Exchange moves, mirror each other and reverse. 

Blood is spilled, violent green against the stained glass. Points for this being real, I guess. We both heal faster than we spread our bood, Dark Suits hungrily sealing shut. 

I don’t like to fight. Or rather, maybe I should say, _didn’t_ like to fight. Before. 

Like this, blood rushing and burning, my chest on fire, feels _right._

This is what a Replica does. What it is _for._

Or is it the Darkness boiling in my veins? Either way, I _fight._

“You like it?” Rook grins. Wild and fierce and hungry. 

“How ‘bout you?” I shoot back, smile every bit the same. 

I trip, every once in a while. The cost of using a new moveset I haven’t quite studied to its fullest yet. A moveset meant for two Ethereal Blades, not one heavy shield. A shield that doesn’t feel _quite_ right for this kind of style. It still works pretty well against Rook’s basic Riku attack patterns. 

In the end, Rook tires. I don’t, despite my heavier weapon. My endurance...endures? No, that sounds dumb. Whatever. 

I knock him over, step on his chest. 

“Surrender!”

He puts his hands up, lets his sword fade away. “I do.”

I offer a hand that he takes, to get back up on his feet. “We should do that again sometime,” I say, heart still pumping a million miles per hour. 

“Eventually,” Rook agrees. “It was...good. Better than the fights I had before.”

Which were...all Riku and Sora fights he lost, and a Zexion murder. Yikes. 

“Glad I could help.” 

I give into my deepest urge. 

I hug him. Full-body. He’s warm, stiffening as I draw closer. Doesn’t hug me back. 

“I’ll get you a body, I promise,” I whisper in his ear. “For my second chance...I’ll get you one.”

“We’ll see.” Why does he sound so _sad?_ I mean that promise, with all my Heart!

Rook pushes me back. I let him. 

“Be careful not to lose yourself in your role, like I did,” Rook advises, looking down at the glass between us. At my sleeping, scarred face. 

My chest expands as I take in a breath. Then let it out. “Yeah. I’ll do my best.”

“Just...” Rook hesitates. He’s fading, becoming more see-through. A ghost. “Be careful, that’s all.”

I try on a smile. “When have I ever not been careful?”

I wake up before I get an answer to that. 

Probably a good thing, too. 

I’m pretty sure I know what his answer would have been. 

* * *

Axel’s fingers tap against warm stone, as he looks over the town below. Waiting for Roxas. 

A lot’s changed but a lot hasn’t, at the same time. 

This routine stays around, at least. Ice cream on the clocktower. 

Waiting for Roxas. He’s been taking longer on his assignments lately, but then, he’s also been getting more assignments with Demyx. That’s probably it. 

Gives Axel time to think, despite what others might say about the possibility of _that._

He’s not stupid, okay? It’s just hard to concentrate, sometimes. Not as hard as when he was a Somebody, he thinks, but still his focus is nothing compared to a few others in the Organization. 

Axel breathes, and thinks. About his nights, the nights that have been less...dark lately. Less flashes of memories and more...original. As impossible as that is. 

Nobodies don’t dream, everyone knows that. They might recall, have old memories come back to haunt them, but anything new is impossible. 

He can’t be dreaming. 

But he’s never met that girl before. Black hair, blue eyes, looking at him like she _knows_ him. Axel doesn’t know her. 

(Does he?)

He can’t have because he would remember. Axel _has_ to remember, it’s what he does. 

Besides, the dreams are a _little_ weird. Why would he be dreaming about _Vexen,_ of all people? Naminé, kind of makes sense, though he only met her as a Nobody. The girl with red hair, Kairi...a girl that he met as a Somebody, a little girl that never got to grow up like the one in the “dreams.”

No. They’re not dreams. They can’t be. 

“Wonder what’s going on...” he speaks out loud, words stolen by the wind. 

Missions are even more under the radar than before. Let no Somebodies see you, that’s usual, but the emphasis on making sure it _stays_ that way...

New.

Also...certain materials have been requested. Ordered to be brought in. 

Xemnas is _up_ to something, but Saix won’t tell him anything about possible reasons why. Not that they’ve really talked, after Axel started hanging out with Roxas more and more. 

But the biggest thing isn’t Organization-related at all. It’s...Roxas’ Somebody is back. Awake and wandering the Worlds without a care. No orders yet, about what to do. 

Except.

To keep their own Keyblade wielder _far_ away from him. The Somebody would probably attack him and though Axel _knows_ Roxas would win in a fight...

He...

Can’t risk losing him. 

(Not again.)

A shimmer of Dark. Axel looks over. “Hey, Roxas.”

He takes out the ice cream bar and offers it. “Here.”

Roxas accepts it easily. “Thanks.”

Silence, but for the chewing noises, as they look over the town. 

They’ve finished their ice cream, but Roxas is fidgeting. Clearly wanting to say something. Axel waits. 

Roxas kicks his feet. “...Have there been other Nobodies in the Organization before?”

Hoo boy. “Why are you asking?”

“There was a girl. In a black coat.”

Axel frowns. “A girl? You mean Larxene?”

Roxas shakes his head. “No. My size, with black hair.” He looks away, says more quietly, “She had a Keyblade too.”

Axel opens his mouth, about to say how that’s impossible. But...

Black hair. 

That’s...familiar. Black hair, like the girl from the dreams he shouldn’t be having. 

But what if...they’re _memories._ Not dreams. Memories like he’s supposed to be going through every night. 

“Do you have a name?” Axel says instead. “For the girl?”

Roxas looks relieved that Axel’s not outright dismissing this. Which he should, it’s crazy. 

Except for Naminé. 

Naminé, who was able to replace Kairi entirely in Sora’s memories. Like the Princess of Heart had never existed at all. 

Was it so hard to believe that there _might_ be someone else erased? Another Organization member, even?

(His chest burns at the thought of- what? Burns at what?)

Roxas’ talking again. Axel retunes in with some effort. 

“She went to the Underworld. But where else?”

Axel thinks out loud, “Maybe here in Twilight Town too, if she was an Organization member.”

“Oh right. That’s a good idea.” Roxas looks stumped. “But how do we find her?”

That not-dream he had last night...if it’s not a dream, but a memory. Maybe, they could start with that. A computer place...

“There might be some files in the computers at the Castle.”

Roxas goes blank. Nervous. “Computers...”

Axel laughs. “Ha, you and your tech issues. It’s too much sometimes, you know?”

“You can do that part,” Roxas decides, “I’ll search in-between missions.”

“Good plan. Got it memorized?”

“Definitely.”

Whoever this girl is or was...they’ll find her. 

Axel’s sure of it. 

* * *

There’s a relief that fills Xion, when Tron finally gets them out of his World. 

For all its fantastical nature, being in his World felt like wearing boots a size too small. Itchy and pinchy. 

How similar she looks to the Heartless didn’t help, of course. 

Kairi promises to come back. Naminé and Xion exchange glances and don’t. 

Kairi is just...soft. She’s different, like Naminé is different but not at all. Kairi wants to learn how to heal and Xion can’t teach. 

Maybe Naminé can. 

“You’re back. Good.” Even looks up from his screen. Seems more...tired. Somehow. Again, his blond hair and green eyes itch at Xion’s brain. Familiar. How?

“Did Ansem hurt you?” Kairi asks, hopping forward. Peering around into the dark corners.

Even looks surprised. “No, of course not. Just...” He lets out a sigh. “Never you mind. I’ll have to search somewhere else for information on Replicas.”

Replicas. 

Xion stiffens. 

“I’m a Replica,” the words plop out before she can stop them. 

Even brightens. “You are? But...hm.” 

That light in his eyes...oh. She knows who he is now. He was Vexen, in the Organization. Why did he change his name?

Is he hiding, like she is? He never did come back from his mission after all...

“If you’re a Replica, then I must have made you since I am the only person making them,” Even muses out loud. 

He turns to Xion. 

“Allow me to examine you.”

Xion blinks. “What do you mean by that?” Next to her side, Kairi stiffens. 

Even waves his wrapped up hands. “Check your health, run a few tests, that’s all. Nothing very invasive.”

“Will you hurt her?” Naminé squints at Even. Who is also Vexen. 

The answer is simple. “No.”

Can they trust it?

Xion chews her lip. There are too many mysteries about being a Replica that she doesn’t know the answer to. Answers that this man might be able to provide, if she accepts. 

“Okay. Where?”

Even smiles. Sort of, it’s not quite right on the normally stern face. “Downstairs.”

Downstairs is dark and dusty. Not as dusty as the library Xion went through, but not well-lived in. Full of computers and bookshelves and other science things that Xion doesn’t know the names of. 

Even goes on ahead. Leaving the three of them to whisper to each other. 

“Are you sure about this?” Kairi asks anxiously. 

Both her and Naminé don’t seem to like the lab at all, but Kairi seems more unnerved by it. Jumping at shadows, the non-Heartless kind. 

“I want to know how I’m different,” Xion states. The Moogles told her some things, as did Ruse, but she wants _more._ And if Even made her, as Vexen, then he probably does know more. 

Can figure out more. Can figure out how she can stop hurting Roxas and Axel. 

“We’ll...be careful,” Naminé says. She wraps her hands around each other, her glow very bright in the lowlight of the old lab. 

“It’ll be fine,” Xion reassures them both. “I have a Keyblade so I can hit him if anything bad happens.”

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t do that.” The three jump, as Even veers out of the dark. He points over to a table, near a tool-covered counter. “Over here, please.”

Xion follows, glancing back at her companions. Nervous, but alright. 

Even...the name doesn’t seem quite right. Not for this, not for what they’re about to do. 

“I’ll keep calling you Vexen,” Xion decides. 

Ro _x_ as, A _x_ el...the best people in her life share that _sh_ sound in their names. One more to add to that list is good. 

Vexen’s lips go thin. Pinch. “If you must.”

He turns away before Xion can say anything back. His long fingers fiddle with strange tools on the counter that had been behind him, before he turned. 

“The examination will be quick and done to the best of my ability,” he explains, “I am simply providing...a check on your health, that is all.”

“Alright.” Xion nods her acceptance. 

Vexen pats the table. “Sit up here.”

She does, kicking her feet as she watches him. 

Naminé and Kairi watch him as well, from the side. They both seem nervous, but Xion knows they’ll step in if anything happens. 

(Well. She _hopes_ they will. )

He reaches out, tilts up her chin. “Checking your eyes now,” he states, shining some tiny light in them. It’s bright. Too bright. “Tapetum lucidum intact...”

Vexen makes a notation on a clipboard next to his tools. Continues talking, absent-mindedly, letting the words just wander out. 

“You didn’t have a face, when you were first made.” Xion holds her breath. Letting him ramble. Afraid of breaking these thoughts, these memories that somehow Vexen doesn’t remember fully. “Terribly ugly.”

“Just like a Dusk, really. You were the quiet one while Ruse always moved around in her tube.” A headshake. “Some things stay the same, it appears.”

His hand around her wrist, checking for...something. What’s in a wrist?

“Difficult to get you to speak. You understood everything just fine, but they couldn’t have a Replica that won’t respond to orders verbally.” He shakes his head again. “Ridiculous conditions to work under. Remain still.”

A blink and a sting. Xion doesn’t even have time to protest, as Vexen withdraws a needle full of green. Her green, her _blood._ He puts it off to the side and makes some more notes. Continues talking.

“I put so much effort into you and _Saix_ apparently tries to throw it away!” Vexen spits. 

“What do you mean by that?” Kairi interrupts. 

Vexen blinks. The moment is gone. He looks Xion over. “...What were we talking about again?”

In the background, Naminé _glares_ at Kairi. “You ruined it,” she almost hisses in a low whisper. 

Xion swallows. Tries on a smile. “Nothing.”

“Hm. That doesn’t seem right.” Vexen pauses in his examination to visibly think, his face screwing up. “What was I saying...?”

He picks up his clipboard, tapping against it. “Well, further details will be revealed once I run a blood test. However, at the moment...you’re unstable.”

Naminé speaks up. “What does that mean? Is she going to...die?”

Vexen shakes his head. “Of course not! Not right away.”

Xion gulps. 

Kairi frowns. “That’s not very reassuring.” She moves over, to stand between Xion and Vexen. There’s something almost...reassuring about the gesture. 

“I am not a medical doctor, of course I’m not coddling you,” Vexen scoffs, waving a hand. “The easiest way to fix your instability would be to finish what you started.”

Xion taps her fingers against the table. “Which means...?”

“Why, killing Roxas, of course.” Vexen says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world. 

Something grinds under her hands, as her grip latches on the edge of the table. She feels _sick,_ about to puke. 

Kill Roxas...she ran, not to kill. She ran and ran. Is her only future to kill him?

If so, Xion would rather _die._

“You said that was the easiest,” Naminé’s voice cuts through the haze. Providing...hope. “What’s another way?”

“We’re not killing anyone,” Kairi announces, steady as earth. Like, of course there was no other way, of course Roxas wouldn’t die. 

“Of course not,” Vexen huffs, “Merely stating all of my conclusions as I am _supposed to._ For the moment...I would advise a continuation of the Materia diet you’ve been taking and spending more time around these two.” He gestures to Kairi and Naminé.

“Why?” Xion frowns. “That _hurt_ Roxas and Axel, when I was...with them.”

“Because they didn’t have stable Hearts, of course,” Vexen says this like it’s nothing. “Kairi has a very strong stable Heart, being a Princess of Heart, while Naminé has been steadily growing a Heart for about a year. They’ll support you quite nicely.”

Naminé gapes. “Nobodies don’t have Hearts,” she finally chokes out. 

Vexen huffs again. “Incorrect research, incorrect conclusions. I have more data now and you _definitely_ have a Heart.”

Naminé sits on the dusty ground heavily. Kairi crouches to offer a hand. A listening ear. 

Xion slides off the table to do so as well. Draws closer to hear Naminé muttering, “I'm a Nobody, I’m a Nobody, this can’t be real.”

It’s...suddenly Xion is brought back to another memory. To a castle’s courtyard, to purple-blue eyes looking at her, full of compassion. 

(Warm arms around her, as she cries. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”)

Xion wraps her own arms, in this here and now, around Naminé. She repeats the words Ruse offered to her, a whisper in Naminé’s ear. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Kairi leans in as well with her arms wrapping around them both. “We'll be okay,” she offers. A hope. A promise. 

They’ll be okay. 

* * *

One of these days I have to figure out why I keep getting trapped in arenas. 

Some sort of curse, maybe? It’s weird. 

At least there’s no Cards, unlike Castle Oblivion. Thankfully. I don’t know if I would survive another Castle Oblivion. 

That secret Xemnas boss battle sucked, you know. Lost so many times...

Ugh. Shiver at the thought, put it aside, move on. 

I’m facing Fang today. In a _practice_ duel, Fang was very clear in pronouncing that to the walls. Like the walls might be listening.

Are they? Oh, that’s a thought. A bad one. Don’t like that. 

Fang is a dragoon, I think the term is. She’s got a long spear and does super big jumps on me. I can’t take the spear on my shield directly, too much momentum. 

But I can make it difficult to get into the air in the first place, by icing the ground. 

Ha!

Fang is more experienced than me by a _lot._ Of course she finds a way around it. But the duel does tire us out enough that a breather is needed. 

Even as I stop to breathe, my brain doesn’t stop whirling. Looking around at the bright colors, the neon unreal-ness of Mirage Arena. 

“Who sits in the audience, anyway? Dream Eaters?” I look up spectatively at the currently empty stands. Empty because this is _practice_ and nothing more. 

Fang props up her spear. “Nah. Dreamers.”

I blink. “Dreamers?”

“Anyone in the Worlds above, anyone that Dreams, has a chance to end up attending a bout,” Fang explains. “Won’t remember, of course, since it’s just a Dream.”

Huh. “What’s, you know, _she_ get out of it?”

Fang rolls her shoulders. “Everyone has to eat.” 

And on that ominous note, she moves on. “Now, show me what you’re doing there with the ice again...”

Fang has to drag me back to the main rooms me and Xehanort have been staying in. My legs (and back) are _killing_ me, burning muscles ache to no end. 

The rooms are...nice, I guess. They’ve got a nameplate on the door to them, labeled with _Radiant Nightmare_ and _Mysterious Figure._ Disconcerting. 

The rooms are two rooms, to be exact. Well, three if one counts the bathroom. One is a kitchen-y set-up and the other a single bedroom. Very small. Also colored yellow and purple for some reason? Not sure why. 

Two beds that are clearly meant to be pushed together, a single couch and chair...why is everything so insistent on no personal space between us? Worse than my dorm in college. 

I mean, if it was Naminé, I wouldn’t care. I spent about...a year? Yeah, a year, being around Naminé almost all the time. Telling her my secrets, hugging her, sharing food...yeah, super close. 

With Xehanort, it’s just...weird. Super weird. 

Fang and Vanille seem to live in each other’s back pockets, as do most of the Spirit pairs I’ve, ahem, spied on around here. So maybe it’s a cultural thing?

Whatever it is, as the newest Dream Eater pairing, Vanille and Fang have taken us under their wing. 

So they’re here. All the time. Making a cramped space more cramped. 

Vanille’s already in the rooms, scolding Xehanort about spell-casting. Which he apparently isn’t doing, in the sessions she insists on having with him. Like the practice sessions Fang just had with me.

Fang dumps me on my feet. I manage not to fall over, balancing against the wall. “Here you go!”

“Er, thanks?”

Back to the argument. Or scolding. Whatever it is. It’s just super funny, having the main villain of Kingdom Hearts shuffle his feet as a redheaded woman yells at him. 

“You’re a weirdo Caster,” Vanille complains, hands on her hips. “Using your blades more than your spells, not showing me your spells...”

“It saves energy,” Xehanort says stiffly. He slides over to me. Ha! Asking me to protect him? As if!

I grin mockingly at him. “Yeah, why are you leaving me to do all the hard work, huh? _Caster.”_

“One day I will gut you and leave you to the Heartless,” Xehanort states so seriously that I’m not sure he’s joking? Considering what happened to Eraqus...

“Ha, very funny. Those Heartless will _love_ me.” I treat it as a joke anyway. Tug at my bandana. My X-marked bandana that I should probably unravel the X stitches in, but I’ll leave it in for the moment. No use tipping my hand to Xehanort too early. 

Vanille sighs happily. “They make such a good team...” she confides to Fang, like we’re not standing just three feet away from them. 

I squint at her and contemplate making a rude gesture. Then reluctantly puts the thought aside, because she’s been really nothing but nice to me and _probably_ doesn’t deserve that. Also, would her cheery persona go along with it? Food for thought. 

Xehanort somehow puts off an aura of _extreme_ discomfort without changing his face at all. Amazing. 

“Sooo...Vanille?”

“Yes?”

“When will we get to _actually_ fight again?”

Vanille smiles. “Tomorrow. Just...be careful not to lose.”

I frown. “Of course not, but...any particular reason why?”

Vanille looks away. 

Fang stretches out her arms. Provides an answer. “Lose here, as independent Spirits, and you become part of Mirage Arena. Owned by the Lady.”

Oh no. That...

Vanille and Fang both look regretful, though in different ways. Did that happen to them?

“We will not,” Xehanort assures. 

“Good,” Vanille nods. Her cheer comes back on. Forcibly turned on like a lightbulb. “See you tomorrow!” She sashays out, Fang close behind. 

The door closes behind them. Leaving the two of us alone. 

Xehanort very clearly Does Not Look At Me. 

Capitals intended. 

Oh. _Oh._ Is that what it is, then? He must be just as uncomfortable with the small space as I am, even more so since he even refuses to take off his coat. 

“I think I’m a year old. About,” I announce, hands on my hips. A year, in Kingdom Hearts. Isn’t that _nuts?_ One day I will think about that more fully when I am at less risk of hyperventilating. 

Xehanort unbends enough to nod at me. “Congratulations.”

“Why, thank you.” I survey him and the room. “Are we enemies?” 

Oops. Didn’t mean to ask that! Oh no!

Xehanort jerks in response, _surprise_ all over his face. “What?”

I swallow. In for a penny, out for a pound. Ask again. “Are we enemies?”

Yellow eyes turn thoughtful. “We do not have to be.”

Hmm. “And what do you mean by that?” I prod. “I can fight for the materia to repair my Heart on my own. You don’t have to be here.”

Risk getting trapped. 

You’re going to destroy the lives of so many people. You’re going to kill your best friend and possess his student. 

You _want_ that future. 

(Your older self threatened me in a dark hallway and I can’t stop thinking about it.)

“Do you not want me here?” Xehanort inquires, openly curious. 

I shake my head violently. “It’s not that! It’s...you have things to do. Lots of plotting and all that.”

Me? I just want to get back to Naminé. Xion. Riku. I miss them.

Getting Rook a body would be nice too...and not dying. 

(Not thinking about it, not thinking about it.)

(I don’t want to die.)

Beyond that...Well. I’m not good at thinking very far ahead. 

“I’m nobody. Not a Nobody, but...just a Replica.” A copy. A monster. Nothing to draw attention to, just one possible vessel among many. 

Xehanort studies me. He steps closer. And then back again. 

“Do you want me to leave?”

Yes. No.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. And the honesty keeps coming. “I should but I don’t want to be alone. Know that makes me weak but...”

I don’t want to be alone. I don’t do _well_ alone. 

I should feel bad, for wanting to be around this person who will hurt everyone I care about. For seeing good in him that will never come to fruition. 

Those golden eyes hide thoughts I can’t imagine poking at. Still watching me as I try not to shake. 

“I won’t hurt you.”

“Will you?” Again, I want to hit myself. Why am I so _stupid,_ asking too honest questions?

Xehanort pauses, stymied. He corrects himself. “I do not intend you any harm at the moment, in this situation. Will that do?”

I think through the words carefully. Not enough, but all I can really ask for, from this guy. 

I nod. Curt. Short. “Sure.”

“Good.” A gloved hand reaches out to my shoulder, pushes me along towards the far bed. “You should sleep, since you’re still healing.”

I lay down on said bed, still watching him. Xehanort settles on the other bed, still watching me. 

Yeah. This is...gonna be _awkward._

* * *

Riku never thought he would see Sora again like this. 

That Sora would actually _hug_ him, even while he looks like a monster. 

“Sora, can you let go now?”

“Oh yeah!” Sora quickly lets go, steps back to look Riku over. “Whoa! You’re really tall now!”

The fairies twitter in the background. 

“Yes.” Riku leaves it at that. He’s _not_ explaining. He turns and starts walking. Sora bounces alongside him. 

“Sooo, what are you doing?”

“Looking for someone.”

“Helping us first!” Rikku chirps, tiny hands on tiny hips. 

“Oh, I’ll help too,” Sora easily agrees. 

Of course he would. 

A weight in Riku’s Heart lessens at the words. But something else shifts inside. 

_He’s hungry,_ the Guardian rumbles in the back of his head. 

Hungry? What could that mean?

“Sora, do you want something to eat?”

Sora thinks about it. “Huh. I actually haven’t been very hungry lately...”

Okay. That’s weird. But not that weird, maybe? Riku hadn’t been around when Sora traveled the Worlds and fought Ansem, so maybe he changed in that time. 

A lot changed, while Riku wasn’t around to help. When he screwed up instead. 

The Guardian rumbles again, but doesn’t say anything this time. Which is good. Riku shouldn’t listen to a Heartless anyway. 

“Sooo...” Yuna stretches out, “We need to go find Ruse and that other woman.”

Sora, surprisingly, perks up at the name. So do Donald and Goofy. 

“Ruse? That’s the name of that man’s daughter,” Goofy says excitedly. 

Daughter? Ruse’s a Replica, she doesn’t have a parent. Riku frowns. “Who said that?”

“His name was Even,” Donald provides. He looks over at Riku suspiciously. “Know him?”

Hm. 

“No.” He’ll figure that out later. Was it DiZ using a new name? But why would he ever claim Ruse as a child...hm.

“But we need the trail again,” Paine chimes in. 

Riku takes out his granola bar. Only for the three fairies to shake their heads all together. 

“Nope!” Rikku chirps. “Only one time use! We need something fresh.”

Riku stares at the bar. One time use...what else does he have-

“Is that a granola bar?” Sora asks. 

Riku turns to show him the bar. “Yes.”

“Oh! That’s like the wrapper I woke up with!” Sora starts digging through his pockets. “I’ve got it...here!”

He triumphantly holds up a wrapper. Same kind as Riku’s.

Riku _stares._ Did Ruse and her granola bars get _everywhere?_ How?

“Oh, perfect! To freshen up the trail.” Yuna flutters over and touches the wrapper. A minute later, she opens her eyes. “Got the trail again!”

Riku smiles under his hood. 

“We’ll find her.” 

No matter what. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, on my mom's non-existent grave, that we will be moving on from Ruse's Issues with Xehanort by next chapter. I swear. 
> 
> Also, there's a number of reasons I went for Rook as Riku Replica's new name. But one I'm most fond of is how Rooks in Chess can do a move called "Castling." Something similar to what Rook has done before this fic begun, and for Namine in game canon, hmm?


	47. Descend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Xehanort code-switches like a badass, our Hero touches topics which should not be touched, and Riku needs...well, a lot of things. But things to make sense would be nice. 
> 
> (A Wayfinder is not enough to escape the Dark. You've already lost.)

My fingers trace over my scars, as I watch them do so in the mirror.

Been a while since I’ve last...really checked out my body. Time passes strangely in the Realm of Dreams. The need to eat is constant, but the need to use the bathroom for anything is...less so. 

Until getting here at Mirage Arena. Suppose the bathroom does exist for a reason. 

A couple of realizations. 

First, my shirt is  _ completely  _ ruined, at my right shoulder, after Xigbar shot holes in me. Of course it is, but I’ve been wearing my skin-tight Dark Suit continuously after that incident so hadn’t fully realized that reality. 

I’ll need to go shopping with Naminé again. Maybe, not red next time? A hot pink might be nice or a green...

Second, the arrowgun holes have nicely scarred over. Something something Replica healing for the win. Four triangles, all pointing at each other in raised purple scarring. A dark almost black stuff, against the rest of my already pretty purple shoulder. 

I roll my shoulder. Feels okay. Tight, but the amount of scarring explains that. 

Hm, something about the shape of the scars bugs me. The pattern is...familiar. Reminds me of a pirate’s treasure map, for some reason? But maybe that’s just the unfortunate Xigbar association kicking in, with the eyepatch and all. 

Whatever, it’ll come to me. The mirror’s starting to make me uncomfortable too. 

I swallow bile, looking away from my too bright eyes and patchy skin. 

Can’t do anything about the shirt, so I shrug and let my Dark Suit stitch itself shut once more. 

Should get out. Xehanort might need the bathroom and man, I never thought that would be a sentence I would ever think in my life. 

I push open the door to step back into a world of purple and yellow. Bright walls, bright floors, Xehanort sitting on the bed shirtless with a pile of black leather next to him...

Wait. Xehanort sitting on the bed shirtless?

I do a double take. Yep, still happening. He goes from refusing to take even a coat off to this? Better not be doing what I think he might be doing...

“Hey!” I shout, hands on my hips. “Whatcha doing?”

I just manage not to add  _ asshole  _ to the end of that. Probably a good idea. 

Xehanort nearly falls off the bed, body responding like a jackrabbit that’s been scared of its wits. Utterly fantastic, I need to remember this scene for later. 

Fortunately for his remaining dignity, he catches himself before falling all the way, hand clutched protectively around his gut. 

Hm? I crane my neck, for a better look. Step closer. 

A scar. Or really, a cluster of four. Stripes that look like a clawmark. But the scars are purple, not a darker brown or even silver like a normal scar should be.

“Where’d you get those from?”

That clawmark is pretty big, stretching all the way across his stomach. Hard-pressed to see anyone survive that kind of gutting wound casually. Even a tough as nails Keyblade wielder. 

“An unique individual assisted me, using Darkness,” he explains, seeing my confusion. “Saved my life, actually.”

I nod, humming as I better examine the scar. Xehanort obligingly moves his hand for me to do so. The coloring, the way the flesh crumples up...

“Huh. Like my scars.” I pat at my face, fingers on said scars. 

“Who is the assassin that gave you those?” Xehanort inquires, suddenly all too intent. 

I look over, a bit surprised. “Huh? I guess I must have told you something in my future, then...”

“Yes. Who?” A demand. 

Not one I particularly want to give into. No matter how much of a jerk Axel may have been, I don’t really want to hand him over to  _ Xehanort.  _

“Does it matter? It’s done. It’s over.” I wave a hand. I’m not shaking, I’m  _ not.  _ “I’m gonna try not running into him ever again.”

“...Very well,” Xehanort allows, eyes narrowed. 

“So...” I sit on my bed, tapping at the mattress. “Why you poking at your scars?”

Xehanort reaches over to put on a loose tank top. Then his coat, zipping it back to usual. Pulls on his gloves. Like nothing happened. 

He hesitates. 

Hm. The way  _ my  _ scars itch at times...

“It’s okay if they hurt. Mine do too. Especially in the cold.” The cold I keep exposing myself to like a moron, with my ice powers. 

“I did not say that.”

“You didn’t have to. It’s pretty normal, with this stuff.” I gesture to my face again. “Little reminders of the hell you went through. A reminder that you  _ survived  _ and that’s the important part.”

Even if the pain sucks sometimes. A lot, sometimes. 

“Eraqus has a similar scar,” Xehanort suddenly mentions. He pats his side, hip-area. “Around here.”

Eraqus, huh. A childhood friend that we never learn much about, in the games. Other than as his role as the Wayfinder trio’s Darkness-hating mentor. 

I lay on my bed, propping my head up with a hand to better look at him. “Tell me about Eraqus. Who’s that?”

Tell me about who you’ll kill, to get what you want. How far this will go. 

Gold eyes look off into an unseen distance, lost in thought. Recalling. “He’s...” A slight chuckle. “You’re a little like him, actually.”

Me, like that grumpy goose?  _ What?  _ I shoot upright on my bed. “Huh?”

Xehanort ticks off gloved fingers. “Curious, keen on scientific discussion, exaggerating qualities of carelessness to make others underestimate you...”

Whoa, a lot must change from...about maybe forty years in the past? Maybe longer? Hm. Maybe Eraqus’ personality shift isn’t so dramatic with that length of time to keep in mind. Still, that list is making me  _ slightly  _ uncomfortable. Especially the last bit, I don’t want him seeing through me. 

“But you're far more flexible than he is, when it comes to certain matters.”

“Hates that Darkness, huh?” Sounds about right for what I remember. 

A lifted eyebrow. A clear question. 

I gesture aimlessly through the air as I explain. 

“Don’t know how much you’ve noticed, but you’re  _ kinda  _ an abnormality among Keyblade wielders about Darkness. Not much of a stretch to figure out how your friend might be ‘less flexible’ as you put it.”

At least, until Riku figures himself out. And even then, he won’t go as far as Xehanort did and will. 

“Not untrue,” Xehanort acknowledges. “Eraqus does follow the norm, in that matter.”

“Think he’d try to kill me if we ever met?” I muse. Not that it matters, we’ll never meet because the man in question is dead. But he did try to kill  _ Ventus,  _ purest light boy ever, for being part of the X-Blade. 

I think I would probably be a much sweeter target, in comparison. 

“No, I don’t,” Xehanort says with full confidence.

...Does he know that Eraqus is dead? That he  _ murdered  _ him? Um. Well, I’m not telling him. Xehanort can find that out on his own, thank you very much. 

Time for a change in subject! Only partially because I don’t believe him at all about Eraqus. 

I stand up. Stretch out my arms. “C’mon, let’s get going! Today’s fight day!”

Xehanort inclines his head. Rises. “Very well.”

I lead the way. 

Which is fine. Today is a new day and today...

I can’t wait to see what we’ll win. 

* * *

There is so much more to the Realm of Darkness than Riku ever could have guessed. Just like Ruse to fall into one of those portions, though. 

Talking to Yen Sid had gotten answers, answers Riku wasn’t quite sure what to do with yet. About...a lot of things. 

Like the armor that the Gullwings carried apparently belonged to a lost  _ Keyblade Master.  _

Or how there was a place called the Realm of Dreams, part of the Realm of Darkness that Ruse was apparently in. 

A place that Yen Sid said they shouldn’t go to like this. 

But they had to. To find Ruse. And to find the lost Master, called Aqua. 

(Why is that name familiar...?)

(The Guardian shivers in his shadow.)

So in the end, after much arguing, after the revelation that the Fey could open a door to the Dream Realm with ease (“What, like it’s hard?), the old wizard had sighed and simply told Mickey to go with them. 

Everything in the Realm of Dreams is so...bright. So very different from the vague memories Riku has of his fall into the Dark. 

There are creatures that bounce about the edges of things. Dream Eaters, Yen Sid called them. Nightmares, more specifically. 

Easy enough to defeat with an entire party full of fighters. 

Yuna leads up ahead, a fervent concentration in her eyes. 

Through crowds of Nightmares and strange trees. Until Riku spies a...building on the horizon. 

“What’s that?”

Mickey shakes his head, brow furrowed. “I don’t know. I’ve never wandered around the Realm of Dreams like this before.”

“Looks like the Coliseum ta me,” Goofy chips in. 

Huh. The shape, the arches, everything but the color... “It does.”

As they draw closer to the building, more structures crop up around them. Walls and doors and windows.

Randomly sitting there, attached to nothing. It’s particularly disconcerting with the windows, hanging there two feet in the air. 

Less Nightmares here. 

But something  _ watches.  _

Riku feels his back tighten up. Waiting for whatever it is to come out. 

“What a diverse group,” a voice speaks from above. Riku looks up to see a hooded figure, face hidden, looking down at them from on top of a nearby wall. A figure wearing the same coat as Mickey and Riku, the Organization’s coat. 

A blur of movement that Riku flinches at brings the figure down to their level. 

They’re not as tall as Riku, but clearly taller than Sora and the rest. Not too out of the ordinary. Probably not a kid, then. 

“A flock of animals, a trio of fairies, a Keyblade Master and...”

They pace forward, stopping in front of Riku and Sora. No weapons out. Not yet. 

“Two Keyblade wielders full of Darkness...are you certain you’re the Heroes here?”

“What are you talking about?” Donald bristles, moving to stand in front of them. The fairies withdraw, watching with cautious eyes from around Riku’s shoulder. Goofy’s shield is out. Everyone is ready. Watchful. 

“The obvious, of course. Is that too difficult for you to comprehend?” The figure paces back and forth, careful to keep a steady distance between themselves and the group of searchers. Making no move towards them. Yet. 

A laugh. “You fear the Darkness, yet carry it with you. In this place...you will only lose control. Become the monsters you so fear.”

“Who are you?” Mickey asks. Calmly. Keyblade out, taking this seriously. Possibly the most serious Riku’s ever seen him. 

“I am called the Mysterious Figure here.”

The Heartless in Riku’s shadow quivers.  _ “Familiar,”  _ it hisses,  _ “Know.” _

What? Riku puts a hand out to the side instinctively. Uselessly. Quiets the Guardian the best he can, quiet enough that no one else notices. 

Except. 

Maybe the Mysterious Figure, who tilts their head at him. Watching. 

Riku doesn’t snarl in the shadow of his own hood, though he wants. Even though no one can see. 

“You should give up your search,” the Mysterious Figure states casually. Like they’re talking about the weather. “You’re not strong enough to do what has to be done.”

“Says you!” Sora yells. 

A shake of the head. “Come now, I cannot believe any Master would suggest coming here in your state. Your rebellion does you credit, I suppose.”

“Aren’t you going to fight me?” Sora seems so much...angrier for some reason. An uneasy feeling rises in Riku’s gut, along with another word from the Guardian. 

_ “Hungry.” _

“Hm. Are you sure you’re human?” 

“Of course he is, what are you talking about?” Riku almost yells. He can’t believe this stranger, Sora’s no Nobody, no monster. He can’t be. Not with Roxas around, not with how hard Naminé fought for his memories. 

Sora’s human. Plain and simple. 

(Isn’t he?)

The Mysterious Figure steeples their fingers together, stepping back. “I may have to ask another about your...condition,” they seem to be thinking out loud. 

Before Riku can respond to that, the Figure speaks again. 

“Once you overcome your weakness...you both have potential.”

Just like that, the figure is gone. 

Vanished into the Dark. 

Along with the large building they had been making their way towards.

“What!? Are we going to have to start our search  _ again?”  _ Rikku stamps her foot on Riku’s shoulder. 

“We’re not,” Paine stats flatly. 

“Why not?” Sora asks, squinting at her. 

“Because we’re finding Aqua first,” Yuna says, with an air of confidence. “We can come back with more help!”

“Oh, that’s a good idea since she’s a Keyblade Master too!” Mickey agrees eagerly. 

Sora adds his cheerful agreement, as do his companions. 

Only Riku remains silent. 

He...doesn’t know Aqua. He wants to help her, but he doesn’t know her. Not like Ruse. But...

“Fine. If that’s the way it’s going.”

Yuna claps her hands and twirls. “Excellent! Now, everyone hang on to each other. We’re going in deep!”

Mickey’s Keyblade glows and Riku barely has enough time to grab onto Sora’s shoulder as they go  _ down.  _

* * *

“Ha!” I set down my cards. “Winner takes all!”

My KO Kabuto opponent clicks its claws at me sulkily. The other Dream Eaters in the area hiss.

I shake my head at it. At all of them, really. “Don’t be like that, you guys beat me the first couple times.”

First dozen, really, since card games suck. Especially Flick Rush. But who’s counting? 

Stand up and stretch. An inquiring click. “Nah, I’m done for the day. Gotta find my partner,” I explain. 

Where is Xehanort, anyway?

Today’s been rather busy. Fought a bunch of double matches first off, got some stuff from that. Then we separated into singles, at the same time, and I haven’t seen him since. 

Slightly worrisome since I don’t know what he’s getting up to. 

The space after my matches gave me enough time to be ambushed by a group of Flick Rush playing Spirits. Something I didn’t even know existed. 

Wanting fresh meat and boy, they got it. But...I hold up a card to examine it. At least I’ve got cool action cards of myself now? Updated with my new bandana and everything. 

Cards still suck, don’t get me wrong. But pretty art. 

“Ruse.”

I look up. Well, speak of the devil. 

“Hey, you get anything from your matches?” Got some Nightmare Cores off mine. They’ll make good snacks for later. 

“Some high class materia,” Xehanort says dismissively, moving me along with a hand to the elbow. “Nothing too unique yet.”

I shrug. Well, sort of. Hard to when he’s got a grip on me like that. “Only the first day. We’ll get better stuff later.” Soon, I hope. Can’t stay here forever, when there are people probably looking for me. If they’re looking for me. Plus the state of my Heart...

“Hey, where are we going?” Please stop shoving me along... 

“We need to talk.” Okay? But not really an answer to my actual question. I resign myself to the pushing, telling myself if it goes on much longer...well, I’ll punch him in the face. 

It’s some dark corner  _ somewhere,  _ where we stop, where Xehanort lets go. Somewhere without any eavesdroppers, as far as I can tell. 

“Is it possible, for a Heartless to look like a Human? Or the person they were before, at least?” Xehanort asks. 

I don’t  _ quite  _ freeze. “Well, yeah, I guess. Probably. I’ve heard of two?” I hazard. 

Gold eyes sharpen at that. “How?”

Erm. It  _ shouldn’t  _ hurt anyone to tell him this, I think. One of the Heartless in question will be his own, after all. He’ll figure it out, whether I say something or not. And Sora can kick any old Nort’s butt.

Plus, I’m curious to what he’ll think.

“Well...” I tap at my chin. “One took on his old form due to a Princess of Heart’s interference. Which is  _ preetty  _ rare, as you can guess. The other...” 

I shake my hand back and forth. “It’s hard to say. Either he reshaped a body of another’s he possessed, or reshaped his own Darkness after the possessed body once he left it. Both, maybe? At different times.”

Ansem the Heartless has always been pretty confusing to me, honestly. Xemnas and Nobodies overall are much easier to understand. A bigger sample size will do that. 

“A surplus of light and taking on another’s form. I see.” He sounds thoughtful. Hm. 

“How’d this come up, anyways?” I put my hands on my hips. Do I need to be worried?

_ Maybe. Keep an eye out.  _

“Old stories, of how beings of Darkness can look like ordinary people,” Xehanort explains, “With Dream Eaters being able to do such, I was considering the possibility of Heartless being able to do the same.”

“Old stories, huh...how old?” I lean back. Let my hands go back down. Very much not ready for his answer. 

“Before the Keyblade Wars.” 

I almost fall over, sputtering. “Wait, what? That’s crazy! Didn’t know anything lasted that long!”

...Other than the actual people, that is. Huh, actually, that’s weirder. Old records are nothing compared to that. Okay, sure, I guess I’ll take old records. 

“You’ve heard of the Wars?” Xehanort sounds surprised. Why would he be, of- oh. Wait. No, I shouldn't. That stuff doesn’t even come up in game until Birth By Sleep, after Chain of Memories and Kingdom Hearts II!

We’re still in the stage of figuring out Ansem is not Ansem but is Apprentice Xehanort!

Beans. 

How  _ do  _ I explain that? I’ve  _ really  _ screwed up here. 

“You could say that I’ve...found some stuff,” I try casually. Mentally flailing. “Castle Oblivion’s  _ super  _ old.”

Which it is. Not lying about that, huh? Best lies are a twisted truth. Let him come to his own conclusions off of that. 

Gloved fingers tap against his arm. “I suppose I will have to examine there myself, then.”

“Um, about that...” I scratch the back of my head. “It’s...kindanotaroundanymore?”

Xehanort looks at me flatly. “Of course. Why am I not surprised.”

“Hey! I don’t destroy  _ everything!  _ That’s some false accusation right there!” I jab a finger at him. 

“I never said that.” Xehanort primly flattens his hands against his coat. 

“Yeah, just  _ implied  _ it. I know your tricks,  _ Xehanort. _ ” I glare. 

“ _ Ruse,”  _ he counters. 

_ “Xeeeehaaaannort.” _

“Please stop.”

I don’t do a fist pump. Well, I do one mentally. Victory is mine! Ha!

Also, I have a question I’ve been meaning to ask. Might be rude, but he probably won’t kill me for it? Metaphorically speaking, of course. Kind of. 

My legs are actually killing me, however. I plop down on the floor. Go criss-cross. 

“Xehanort...is that a traditional name on Destiny Islands? What about the rest of your family?”

Now, I know the  _ Doyalist  _ reason for his name, to make an anagram of ‘No Heart’ with an X in it. But what’s the reason in this world that has become real? Where did he come from, on Destiny Islands?

Also...since I’m on the floor...

I beckon to him. “Hey, want a seat?”

Pure surprise in those eyes. “What?”

I frown. “Has...no one asked any of that before? Surely those aren’t weird questions.”

Maybe it  _ is  _ rude to ask those. Let’s sweeten the pot, a bit. Because I would like an answer, please. To at least one. 

“Hm, an exchange then? I’ll tell you about my name, for yours.”

Xehanort shakes his head. He huffs out a breath. Remains standing. “Never cease to surprise me...fine. My name for yours. You first.”

Only fair, I guess. Since I’m the one asking.

I lean back on my hands. “Weeelll, it’s a little complicated. I liked the sound of ‘Rose’ but not enough. Because Marluxia screwed that word up for me. And I’m...not quite what I’m supposed to be, right? So, Ruse. Pretty cool, huh?”

All very truthful. Omitting certain bad stuff, of course. 

Xehanort somehow keeps track of my rambling, nodding at the right parts and getting a dark look in his eye as I mention Marluxia. 

Hm, time for a distraction?

“Your name, now?” I prompt. Sit up straight, pull my hands into my lap. 

“My...relatives were very traditional. They asked of the winds, and my name is what they got.”

That...wasn’t what I was expecting. I lean back, enough to squint at him from my lower position. “How did they ask the winds, exactly?”

Gold eyes look away from me. Very clearly not meeting my gaze. 

“It doesn’t matter. It’s ridiculous.”

I frown. “Hey, I won’t laugh. Besides, you promised.”

“...Very well.”

With some (read:  _ great _ ) reluctance, Xehanort admits, “They disemboweled a sacrificial bird for the first letter and got the rest through various omens over the coming week.”

Okay. Hm. That’s...huh. Pretty labor intensive for a name. Cool. 

A moment as he waits for my response. Which is. 

“That’s it?”

“Why are you so...calm?” Xehanort’s not quite shaking, but his hands might be soon. 

“Xehanort, I  _ picked my own name.  _ A name that’s more of a descriptive word than the usual name. I’m not going to laugh, or say it’s gross, it’s fine.”

Why is he so hair-trigger about his traditions, anyway? That’s...cool. Kind of interesting, how do you tell different letters and stuff in an animal’s guts? Or other things?

I ask about the animal guts first. 

Xehanort shakes his head, disbelieving. “Does it matter? It’s...there’s nothing true about it, just superstition.”

“Superstition doesn’t make it not important,” I reason. 

Xehanort looks away from me. Turns away. 

“You...have somewhere to be?” Maybe I should give him out. He’s not really...happy with this conversation. Hm. I might have to drag more answers out later. 

Xehanort doesn’t quite look relieved. He looks like he  _ wants  _ to be, though. 

“There’s some...individuals I need to continue a conversation with.”

“Oh, mind if I come?” I ask casually. 

Not casually enough. Xehanort shakes his head. “No. It’s personal.”

I huff. “Fine. Go then.”

“I will return soon.” He promises, as he puts up his hood. Starts walking away. 

I watch his back as he goes down the hall. Sigh to myself. Get off of the ground, dusting myself off. 

He’s definitely up to something. But what?

“Mystery for the ages,” I grumble. “What evil is next on the list?”

Maybe that’s unfair. Maybe he’s just...getting a snack or something. Sure. 

Gives me some time to explore the Arena without worrying about what Xehanort’ll find  _ interesting  _ at least. Never mind it would probably be something I would like too. 

Vanille said something about a downstairs, I want to try my luck there...

The deeper one goes into Mirage Arena, down steps that aren’t available to most Dreamers and visitors, the  _ Darker  _ it gets. 

The coloring remains the same, but becomes more...neon, I think? Lumiscient like cave mushrooms in video games. 

More splatters too, less organization. One of them even looks...dick-shaped? Huh. “How bout that?” The more things change, the more they stay the same, I guess. 

_ Interesting wall picture.  _

A voice in my head. It should probably be kinda sad that’s pretty normal for me. Also, that I also  _ know  _ this voice. 

“Rook?”

_ Hm. Guess that fight provided a better connection.  _

“That’s one good thing, I guess,” I muse, as I look down Dark halls. Avoiding the ones with lots of red eyes gleaming down them. “Why are you talking to me?”

_...what I’ve been fighting, they’re gone. For some reason.  _

Uh. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Rook sounds frustrated.  _ I don’t know. Where did it go? _

“Well, I guess you can just chat at me then. Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”

_ That’s fine.  _ He goes quiet. 

Okay. Guess that’ll work. I shrug and keep walking, boots clicking on the floor. Craning my neck to catch everything I can. 

Which is probably the reason I trip, actually. Not paying attention enough to the growing unevenness of the floor. 

My landing is surprisingly soft. Squishy. 

“What...” I mumble. 

“Off.” The jelly-mounds move as someone speaks. 

I’ve fallen into a pile of boobs.  _ Really  _ big ones, they’re difficult not to notice. 

“Frick, I’m sorry!” I don’t want to be in an anime rom-com, those aren’t very funny anyway! I nearly fall over again desperately backing off. Until I hit the wall behind me.

_ Ugh.  _

The boobs belong to a very feminine individual that manages to be even shorter than me. Long dark hair. Wearing loose dark robes marked up with red Dream Eater symbols. The same red as those eyes staring at me. Unblinking. 

“Here to visit?”

“Um, sure?” Got nothing better to do...

“Hyde. He/him, if you would.” Hyde turns her back on me. Oops, I meant his. Walks through a nearby archway. 

An archway that looks to be...mysteriously cool. Begging to be investigated, along with whatever’s on the other side. 

I stare after him, blinking. 

All right then. 

Hm, I wanna check everything out. I follow. 

This place is much bigger than what first appearances would suggest, with the smaller archway leading into it. But that might be because of the amount of  _ stuff  _ stuffed everywhere. And dust that keeps getting in my nose. 

“Achoo!”

“Do not damage anything.” Black-blue robes sweep ahead. 

Suits of what look like  _ Keyblade armor  _ litter the walls. There’s a stuffed dragon-beast snarling at the ceiling with glass eyeballs. All matter of knick-knacks and weird objects upon the shelves that create the aisles.

I follow close behind Hyde because this is the kind of place that could  _ eat me. _

_ A lot of stuff here.  _

Which leads to the question of...

“What is this place anyway?” I examine a jar full of blue orbs, floating around in some sort of pickling liquid. Judging by the smell at least. 

Pick it up. All of the orbs  _ turn towards me,  _ showing black slits.  _ Eyes.  _

I yelp, drop the jar. 

_ Agh! That’s gross! _

Hyde’s suddenly right there. Catches the jar with ease. Never mind that the eyes are all looking at him now. “Witches’ eyes. Very difficult to get now. Do not damage.”

The jar is put up on a higher shelf. Where I thankfully can’t see the eyes watching. 

“Huh?”

“From another story,” Hyde says. Like that explains anything. “Extinct there. Almost. Very powerful magical catalyst.”

“That doesn’t explain anything, you know. What  _ is  _ this place?” I gesture at dusty items everywhere, the armors, the strange devices I can’t begin naming, the preserved animals. “Some kind of trophy room?”

“An archive.” Hyde’s tone of voice implies that I just asked a stupid question. 

“Oh.”

I look at the collection with new eyes. If this is an archive...then it’s in sorry condition. Probably due to a lack of visitors, since I’m the only one here but for Hyde and the several inch-thick dust layer. 

Years worth of dust, if I had to guess. If time means anything in the Realm of Dreams. 

A place I could get lost in. Forever. 

...Better be careful, then. Keep following Hyde. 

Hyde doesn’t seem to mind. Apathetic. But fine. 

I follow his lead to somewhere along the back of everything. 

Where I see...

A nameplate. That reads Void Remnant. Next to a...cage?

“Hyde, why is this here?” Why is there possibly a living being in here, among the dead stuff?

Hyde’s head tilts back. Red eyes meet my eyes head-on. “Ultimecia cycles through her belongings. Some of them come here, when she is done.”

Erm. I don’t like the sound of that...makes me sick. Belonging...living things aren’t belongings!

I peer into the cage cautiously. Curiously. 

Catch a glimpse of white, black, as whatever’s inside moves around. Moves closer to the bars, enough for me to see a symbol on its faceless head. 

Oh, I  _ know that one.  _

Unversed. 

With that, everything else falls into place. Including how many times I died to this stupid secret boss. 

I breathe. A name. 

_ “Vanitas.” _

_ Who? Wait, that’s a person? _

What is his Remnant doing here? 

The Remnant twists unnaturally in its cage. I wait with bated breath. What is it doing?

Tilts its head at me, too far, joints all wrong. 

It  _ screams.  _

* * *

A pity, that it’s come to this. Yet everything else had failed. 

All resources Xemnas had turned to, everything he could get his hands on...failures. Bitter, miserable failures. Leaving only a singular option, a choice if he wanted to get Ventus on two feet once more. 

(Does he? Yes. He does.)

There is a difficulty of even labeling Ventus properly as a Nobody, considering that all of his body’s current Will is funneled straight by the stolen CO Heart. No Darkness flourishes on such little energy to go by. 

A lack of Darkness could provide an issue in the future. But if Xemnas provides his blood as a donation...that should no longer be an issue. 

Along with this other gift. 

Xemnas reaches out. Tilts Ventus’ chin up so his blank blue eyes meet Xemnas’ own gaze. “Ventus.”

As always, a few minutes pass before eyes properly focus and Xemnass receives a response.

“Yes.”

Slower wake up times lately. The Will donations will not be enough soon. 

“Do you want to wake up fully?” Xemnas asks. 

The Superior of Organization XIII is not one for asking. The Nobodies under his command have already agreed to follow him and his commands, which means no request is required of them. 

They are  _ his.  _ Why ask for what is already given implicitly?

Somehow, it’s...important to ask Ventus. A trace response that forces him to this. 

Ventus blinks. The Heart tied to his chest surges. “Yes. Yes, I want to.”

Xemnas nods. “Then I will do what is necessary.”

He lets go of Ventus’ chin, letting the head drift down to the chest once more. However, this time, Ventus still watches him instead of closing his eyes and drifting back to sleep. 

A fine degree of preparation is required.

There’s a reason not everyone in the Organization shares the gold of his eyes, yet, with the amount of effort that is needed of Xemnas. 

He takes off his gloves. Letting him touch Ven’s face skin-to-skin for the first time. That same hand goes to Ventus’s chest as his other hand goes to his own. 

A deep breath. 

This will hurt. 

It  _ always  _ hurts, as much as the first time and the last time he did this for Saïx. 

First, the connection. 

Xemnas focuses. Feeds himself into the gap his senses are aware of. The  _ nothingness  _ inside Ventus’ chest and being. 

Fill it. 

_ Mine.  _

Usually, at this point, there is a Will that fights back. Everyone does it, a natural response to the foreign Darkness flooding the hole inside of them. 

The fight is pitiful here, barely a spark. Much like Ventus himself. 

Nothingness is a power in  _ boundaries.  _ Or lack of them, in Xemnas’ case. 

Nothing gets into everything. Simply how reality operates. Light and Dark swirling about each, Nothing creeping into each from their mixture. 

Ventus’ body shakes. A seizure. Perfectly normal, for this. 

His power pushes forward. Breaks through what keeps him back. 

Ventus is  _ his.  _

_ Mine.  _

They are all  _ his.  _

Ventus’ eyes are closed. The Heart flashes on the table. 

No longer needed, now that Xemnas feels the trickle of his Darkness and Nothingness residing in the chest his hand rests on. His hand draws upward. Towards the slack face. 

Xemnas lifts a heavy eyelid. 

Gold stares back. The same gold as his own. 

“Perfect.”

* * *

Roxas doubles over with a loud pant of a scream. 

His new friends flock around, full of concern. “What’s wrong, Roxas?”

“I...don’t...know,” he pants. His hand grips at his chest.

His burning, screaming chest. A pulse of  _ something.  _ Threatening to jump out of him.

Something has gone  _ terribly wrong.  _

* * *

The Dark is cold. Always so cold. 

Aqua fights it back, as she always has. Always will.

Until her friends come for her. 

(Will they come?)

No, she can’t doubt now. They’re coming. They have to be. 

(Ventus will never wake up.)

No. That’s not true. It can’t be.

She’s alone in the Dark. Which she’s been for a while. 

But she has no Keyblade, after losing Master’s Defender to the Darkness. 

(Foolish, how dare you disgrace your Master’s legacy.)

Aqua breathes. Tightens her fingers into fists, as she looks over the Dark ocean up ahead. She can do this. She can make it. 

“Lux, lux,” something croons from behind her. 

Experience has taught Aqua the importance of reacting quickly. She turns, hand out for...a Keyblade that will not heed her call. 

In front of her, is a semicircle of Heartless-looking creatures. They’re about the size of Ven, most of them, a few smaller. 

Watching her with yellow monster eyes, red claws twitching on human-like hands. 

“Lux, lux,” one chants. The others join in. “Lux, lux, lux.”

They haven’t attacked her yet. They will. 

Everything in the Darkness hates the Light. Wishes to devour it. 

They will. 

She drops into a ready stance. As ready as she be, without any weapon beyond her fists and magic. 

“Now, now, we don’t have to fight, do we?”

The Heartless beings move, to let this new speaker pass through. One even less human looking than they are. 

A small purple catlike creature with a cape. Watching her with red eyes. 

“Who  _ are  _ you?” Aqua hisses. 

“You may call me Toxicity,” it pronounces. “I am first among Nightmares and here to offer you a deal.”

Blue eyes narrow. “Whatever it is, I won’t take it.”

“You won’t even hear me out?” Toxicity’s paws go behind its back as it peers at her. “You Lights, all the same...but if you listen, I will not order an attack.”

The Dark creatures tremble around it. Clearly listening. 

Aqua licks her lips, throat dry. She should say no, leap into a fight. 

But. 

She’s unarmed. She needs time to build up a spell, nearly impossible with the amount of Darkness around her and so little Light to draw on. 

She can fight, but it would be better to buy time to run. 

Because that is another thing the Realm of Darkness has taught her, that sometimes you have to run instead of fight. Or fight until you can run. 

“What do you want, then?” she manages to spit out. 

Red eyes gleam. So very different from the usual Heartless yellow, they leave her uneasy. “I knew you would see it my way.”

Aqua swallows back her words and waits. This Toxicity doesn't disappoint. 

“I would like your...assistance on a matter. You want to go home, do you not? Find your friends Terra and Ventus?”

“How do you know about them?” Aqua’s fingers itch, as she draws them in tighter. 

That large head tilts slightly. “Oh? What will you pay for that?”

Pay the Darkness? Never. “Never mind.”

“Very well. As I was  _ saying... _ you and I have a common interest. We both want your friends free from that  _ scapegoat.  _ Xehanort.”

What? That doesn’t make any sense. Doesn’t Darkness all want the same thing? Why would a Master of the Dark and a creature of it fight? Her head spins, dizzy and tired. So very tired. 

“So I get you, to the Realm of Light. You do your heroic thing and I get what I want as a result. Don’t you want that? You can even fight me afterwards, I don’t mind.”

“No. Stop.” Aqua pushes out. “This doesn’t make any sense. Why would you...?”

Toxicity’s plush face somehow manages boredom. “I already answered that. A common interest, see. Come up with something more interesting.”

“How did you know I was here?” No one had found her, except for Mickey, once. Then he was lost again, in the Dark. Or she was lost again.

She doesn’t know. 

If this... _ thing  _ wanted her “help,” why hadn’t it come earlier? No, that was silly. She had her Keyblade then. Weakness. It wants to take advantage of her weakness. 

But how did it know about her lack of Keyblade, if that’s why so late?

How?

Red eyes glow. “Oh, I knew that brain would come out eventually. That  _ is  _ a very interesting question, with an interesting answer.”

The Dark creatures shift. One hisses, “ _ Sister.” _

“Yes, their sister. My darling pet. She knew quite a lot, you see. An entire story all locked up in her head for me to use!”

Toxicity claps its paws together. Aqua feels  _ ill.  _

“Knew a Keyblade Master would be lost in the Realm of Darkness, all by herself. Waiting for anyone to come pick her up. Someone like  _ me. _ ”

“Sister smart,” the same Dark creature as before says, sounding content. Sounding  _ human.  _ Too human. 

“Now, I can tell you this for one reason...”

Aqua stiffens. 

A fangy grin, as paws reach out to the surrounding Heartless beasts. Beckoning. 

With horrified eyes, Aqua watches as the creatures break away into fragments of Darkness. Swallowed up by the monster in their midst. 

Toxicity grows larger and larger. More like a tiger, stripes breaking apart in the dark, paws become huge red claws. Wings spread out over her. 

A wide wide grin appears on a monstrous face. All fangs and bloody tongue. 

“You won’t  _ remember. _ ”

It hisses. 

Aqua moves to...fight, to run, to do anything. 

Instead. 

She falls. 

(It is so very Dark.)

(Dark.)

(Kingdom Hearts. What an interesting name for a story.)

(I think I’ll make that story  _ mine,  _ what do you think?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year? 
> 
> Generally, in Self Inserts/Isekai/whatever you want to call this, it's a big fear of the main character that everyone else will find out that they know too much or are actually from another world, etc. Particularly enemies that will use the knowledge for *evil.*  
> What if...your enemy already knows? Knew before the first chapter even started?  
> What do you do then?


	48. Departed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are ghosts to be hunted, ghosts that are hunting, and sometimes...there are ghosts inside of us. 
> 
> (Sometimes they win.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With our combined power...over a thousand comments! Whoa! Have an update!

There’s an ocean. A black mirror of the one Riku saw everyday on Destiny Islands, looking over it in hopes of finding anything on its horizon. 

He can’t pick out a specific scent, not with the Darkness _everywhere._

How can they hope to find anyone _here?_

Yuna bounces. “Oh! There she is!” She waves and Riku follows her directions, to...a woman sitting alone on the beach. 

Alone in the Dark sand. 

“Aqua?” Mickey asks quietly. 

The woman’s head jerks around, exposing her eyes. “Mickey?”

Blue eyes. Not yellow, those of the Darkness. It seems she’s stayed strong here. 

Something itches inside at the sight. Blue...is that right?

She stands. “Are you real?”

Mickey nods solemnly. “Yes. We’re here for you.”

An inhale of breath. “Oh...” Blue eyes go over the rest of the party. Settles on Sora and Riku. “Who are you two?”

Sora jerks a thumb at his chest. “I’m Sora.” Points at Riku. “That’s Riku!”

“Sora? Riku? ...you can’t be, you were children...” Aqua wanders back and forth, a lost look on her face. 

She stops in front of Riku and pokes him in the chest. “You’re too big. And...” Peers into the shadow of his hood. “I can’t see your face.”

Riku finds himself frowning. 

Sora steps forward. “Hey, it’s been...”

“Eleven years,” Mickey supplies. 

“Yeah, eleven years! It would weird if we didn’t grow up!”

“ _Eleven_ years.” Aqua’s face goes even more pale, impossibly so. She sits down heavily, like her legs have just given up from underneath her. “No, it can’t be...”

“I’m sorry, Aqua, that I didn’t get here sooner.” Mickey hugs her. She flinches but doesn’t pull away, eyes closed. 

The fairies watch this all, silent. Riku chances a look. Appearing...sad. Mournful, but determined. 

But surprisingly, they wait. They don’t rush Aqua as she and Mickey comfort each other. 

“Now, we need to go explore some more,” Riku explains. “To find Ruse.”

Make sure no one forgets. It’s easy to forget, in the Dark. 

Riku knows this for a fact. 

“Why aren’t we going to the Realm of Light?” When Aqua asks this, she’s resigned. Like of course they’re staying in the Realm of Darkness. 

Riku finds himself relating only all too well. 

“Another friend of ours is down here too! We’ve gotta rescue ‘em!” Sora explains. 

Aqua’s eyes sharpen. “Who?”

“Ruse.” The name means nothing to her, of course. Ruse only started existing about...a year ago? Impossible for Auqa to know about, down here for eleven years. 

“I see...” She doesn’t, actually. If he had to guess. 

“We have your armor,” Rikku interrupts. “Right here.” She and Paine flutter forward to offer her a shoulder guard? Huh?

Aqua accepts it and something lightens about her shoulders, her frown. 

She puts the guard on her shoulder and taps. 

Out comes, in a flash of light, blue armor!

Riku’s eyes widen at the sight. Sora’s response is the same. 

Another Keyblade Warrior...how impossible! But here she is. 

Mickey steps forward again. “Your Keyblade.”

In his hands appears a dark blue Keyblade. The design is more straightforward, less complicated and thinner than Sora’s own Keyblade. 

“Rainfell” Aqua breathes. Accepts it as well. 

With her weapon, her armor...she seems more whole somehow. 

_Aqua,_ his shadow sighs. _Aqua._

So close to his appointed goal, now there’s time for Riku to worry more about the details. 

Ruse is...well. Will she get along with everyone? Probably Sora, because Sora’s bright like she is, talkative and bouncy. 

Everyone else? He...doesn’t know. She uses Darkness, for one thing. Darkness like he does, Darkness he’s not supposed to use because it’s...not Light. It’s bad, it’s what Ansem used, that whispering voice in his nightmares. 

And the way she tries to chew up any rock in her path,among other things (her blood, her night vision)...they might see a monster.

Riku...he’s not Sora. He doesn’t know how to make monstrous things appear like nothing, mere details to be swept away in favor of friendship. 

He’s never been like that. Never will be. 

What will he do?

* * *

Xemnas strides along the empty halls like he owns them. 

Which he does, of course.

All of the Lesser Nobodies avoid him, their Nothingness fleeing before his own might. Leaving Ventus to peacefully follow behind him, wearing the proper attire. A black coat that Xemnas picked out for the boy himself. 

Everyone is else gone. 

Everyone except one particular individual. The one he’s seeking out, to introduce Ventus to. 

Xigbar’s sitting alone in an empty room. Fiddling with his joints, popping them in and out with noises that would have been disgusting had Xemnas the Heart to feel that way.

He looks up. “Hey, boss-man. Hey, Roxas.”

“Number II.”

Wait for it...Xigbar’s no fool. He notices quickly enough. 

“Wait...” Xigbar narrows his eye. His gold eye, the same color as everyone else’s eyes in the room. “That’s not Roxas. You found Ventus.”

Xemnas doesn’t bother dignifying that with an answer, not when Number Two can, and is, figuring it out on his own. 

“A new vessel...” A loud laugh, as Xigbar shakes his head and claps his hands together. “How ‘bout that? That’s...hm, four of us down in the Organization?”

“There may have been more decided without my input,” Xemnas allows. Many things are...foggy, about his purpose, his past. 

Xemnas knows, at the very least, that he needs to create all vessels he can for his Somebody. His Somebody may make further choices down the line, but Xemnas will prepare for that future. 

(Do you want to die? Because that’s what it means, to bring Xehanort back.)

He shakes the thought away, along with his head. 

“Ventus will not be introduced to the rest of the Organization. Only you and I know of his presence here, and will remain the only two to know such.”

“So you’re not gonna put him out into the field?” Xigbar’s single eye looks Ventus over carefully. Taking in every detail. 

“There is no need to with Roxas at work,” Xemnas asserts. “He may remain within the Castle.”

Within his reach. 

Xigbar rubs at his face. “...You sure he won’t run off? Kid’s kinda famous for that.”

Xemnas narrows his eyes in response. How exactly does Xigbar know that? Know Ventus? 

He himself is faintly aware of meeting him, as his Somebody. That has to explain the bone-deep familiarity. But how many times did _Braig_ meet Ventus? Apparently when his Somebody wasn’t paying the closest attention. 

It won’t be a danger. Not with how much Ventus struggled with staying awake before the process occurred. Even now, Ventus gradually gravitates towards Xemnas. Like he’s the sun star of his existence. 

“He shares much deeper ties with me than you currently do,” Xemnas settles on. “There is less...leeway, in our connection.”

“Ah.” Xigbar makes a sound of comprehension. “Another one, huh?” 

He reaches out to slap Ventus on the shoulder, who doesn’t respond at all. “Sucks to be you, kiddo!”

“Xigbar,” Xemnas says. He has no Heart to feel exasperation, but Xigbar tests that to the limit in their interactions at times. 

“What? Am I wrong?”

“In this case, certainly.”

Xigbar settles back, rolling his head back. Joints pop in and out, wrist going the wrong way as he gestures. “Sure, fine, whatever. Enjoy your plaything and don’t break him too soon.”

Some part inside of Xemnas objects to the thought of ‘plaything.’ Ventus is certainly no such thing, not to him. Not with the amount of effort and time he put into waking him, bringing him to his feet. 

Ventus is _his._ Everyone in the Organization is _his,_ but some are certainly more _his_ than others. 

Saïx, for one. Xigbar as well. And now...Ventus. 

His, his, his. 

“Terra?” Ventus’ weak voice speaks up. 

Behind him, there’s a choking noise from Xigbar’s couch. 

“Xemnas,” Xemnas corrects again. 

Big gold eyes blink. “Xemnas,” Ventus eventually agrees. “What are we doing?”

Xemnas considers the query seriously. 

“I am showing you around the Castle That Never Was. Where you have been staying and will continue to stay.”

“Okay.” Ventus squints his eyes. “Um. Will you be showing me my room soon? Or am I staying in the same place?”

“The same location will continue its function.”

“Xemnas.”

Xigbar, this time. Xemnas lifts an eyebrow. Looks over at very serious (for once) Xigbar. 

The seriousness slides away as the Nobody leans forward with a wide grin on his face, discarded as one would an old coat. 

“Let me have a little time with the kid? Just check how he is, and everything. If he’s still got...” Xigbar makes the shape of either a penis or a sword with his hands. “You know.”

Consideration. He won’t harm him. Not when they aim for the same goal currently. “Very well.”

Ventus shivers. 

“You damage him, you will regret it,” Xemnas adds as a caveat. His fingers flex at his sides. 

“Yeah, yeah, got it.” Xigbar stretches out his arms. More crackling noises that Ventus flinches at. “Break my bones, take out my other eye...I’ve heard it all.”

Xemnas inclines his head. “I see you understand.”

Xigbar waves a hand. “Go, have fun sitting around doing nothing. Like you do.”

Xemnas doesn’t bother correcting him. If that’s the impression he gives off...well, better for any who might consider opposing him, to catch them off their guard. 

“Very well.”

There are plans whose details need ironing out. 

Just because he has another vessel does not mean more are not needed. 

But...

He will get what he wants, in the end. 

(Victory will be theirs.)

* * *

The Vanitas Remnant stops screaming. Starts moving towards me. 

“Hyde?” 

“Hyne,” Hyd- no, _Hyne,_ corrects. “That is my name.”

Hm. Not familiar at all. 

Should I have expected it to be?

“Sorry about the mess-up.”

“Mistakes occur,” Hyne allows. “But there is a price.”

Erm?

 _That doesn’t sound good at all. Get out of here._ Rook contributes. 

I start backing away. Very, very carefully. 

Except.

There’s no exit now. The archway is _solid stone._ Complete opposite of what it used to be. 

Uh oh. 

_Uh oh._

The bars disappear. I’m already turning, already running, when they do. When the fragment of Vanitas rushes out to attempt to eat my face. 

“Please don’t eat my face!” I yell at the monster snapping at my heels. 

Predictably, the Vanitas Remnant picks up its pace. 

Honestly, I have no idea why Hyde thought this was a good idea. What if we break something in here? Something irreplaceable?

Whatever. The shelves make for handy places to climb on, out of reach. Since I can’t get out of here otherwise. 

Not that it helps for long, since apparently the Remnant can climb too. Clumsily, much slower, but still climbing. 

My life would be so much easier if more things followed video game rules and logic such as no climbing NPCs. 

Unfortunately (or fortunately), life doesn’t work that way. 

“Keep moving,” Hyde says with all of the energy of a melting glacier. 

The temptation to tell him to eat shit grows ever stronger. The need to breathe is more important, however. And climb. 

A clawed hand catches around my ankle. “Ah!”

 _Throw the eyeballs at it!_ Rook urges. My hand reaches out, grasping desperately, for that same jar of Witch eyeballs that I nearly dropped earlier. 

Toss and wait-! No jar! Where’d it go? Gone like magic. 

“Do not throw my things.”

“What the hell!?” I shout, kicking at the hand. “I’m going to die here.”

“Yes, but it will be informational in a way breaking my things is not.”

...why do I have to run into the most _insane_ people? 

Beans. 

_Kick some more!_

“I’m trying!”

The Vanitas Remnant steadily pulls me downwards to its maw. A maw that lies in the crack between its neck and strange mimicked mask. Opening up, full of fangs and spit that chews through my Dark Suit like acid. 

I hiss at the pain, the spit hisses back. 

Not like the actual Vanitas (probably), but the monster Vanitas people thought he was, probably. 

It’s got me and it’s going to eat my alive. My shield...I hit hard with it, but it does nothing. I can’t break free and every second draws me closer to that maw. 

One thing I can _try._

If this doesn’t work...well, I’m screwed anyway. 

_Ruse?_

I stop fighting. The lack of resistance has the Remnant drag me in too close, too fast. Enough to surprise it, even. 

_Ruse?!_

I reach out. Grab it by the shoulders and nearly _slam_ my head against the Unversed symbol on the mask. Don’t break it, of course, too hard. 

Enough to shock the monster into motionlessness. Allow me to do what I do next. 

“Vanitas,” I hiss a name I shouldn't know, but do. “ _Ventus.”_

I breath in-

_Loss is-_

My head spins as there’s shouting, in the background. 

_Loss is-_

I’m breathing in ash and regret and acid spit that burns me from the inside out. 

_Loss is-_

The Remnant isn’t fighting me anymore. Stays pressed up against me, breathing me in as I breath it. I am- _you are-_

_You are an abomination that should have never existed. You are torn free of everything that gives you meaning and purpose._

_You are Empty. Empty but for a spark within. A Light that was yours._

_As time passes, your bitterness grows. You can feel Bright laughter through that spark, echoes in an empty chamber of a body. Boiling your Darkness inside out._

_Your Light isn’t alone. Your Light has people to make it bright._

_You..._

_You are alone. You are rejected, and a ghost lingering on a cursed land._

_If only your Past Self hadn’t been so weak, hadn't rejected you-!_

_Well._

_You wouldn’t exist and wouldn’t that be the best part of it all?_

_Loss is-_

I’m torn away and the separation is fire in my mouth. 

The Vanitas Remnant is...flaking. For lack of better words. Chunks of it falling off, as it pants at me. Doesn’t make another movement towards me. 

It can’t, not with the chains keeping it in place. 

Chains that are coming from Hyne’s outstretched hands, purple and red. 

“Do not eat my things.”

_Ruse, don’t do that!_

“Can’t make that promise,” I say to both. My throat is hoarse, burns. 

Hyne makes a gesture and another box pops up. Folds itself around the Vanitas Remnant and disappears once its task is complete.

I stand. Shaking. 

Stuck with Hyne. Who thankfully seems more keen on lecturing me than unleashing another monster on me this time. 

Considering what I almost did to the last monster...makes sense. 

“You are a creature created to be bound, to serve. Like that thing of mine.”

I puff up. “Hey! That’s not true.”

“Do not take offense,” Hyne ‘assures’ me, “All Dream Eaters follow that destiny. It is a natural state of a creature that feeds off the emotions and dreams of other races, instead of creating their own.”

“I dream just fine, buddy.” I glare at him. 

“Are you certain? Or are your Dreams connected to another, on the other side? A face that always reappears...”

I think about it. Push away the instinctive denial and think it through. Is Hyne right? What have my Dreams been lately?

Three girls wandering, Tron...a common strand?

Rook knows the answer first. _Naminé,_ he whispers. _You’re connected to Naminé._

Naminé. Naminé. 

Of _course_ it’s Naminé. 

I let her hook herself into my Heart, didn’t I? Right at the start of the Chain of Memories stuff, a connection that allowed us to speak mind-to-mind for a time. 

“You are Bound,” Hyne observes. “You dream of who you serve and they dream of you. An eternal connection that can only be broken by you.”

I narrow my eyes. “And if I break it?”

Hyne places his hands together in a prayer-like gesture. “Then you are Nightmare. Free of Destiny, and free to devour anything in your way.”

Red eyes glint. “You’re already halfway there.”

What?

“I can’t be if I’m connected to Na- you know. My Bound person or whatever,” I argue. My hands are fists now, by my side. The shaking’s stopped. Mostly. 

“Your essence is breaking apart, you’re dying.” Hyne states that like an ordinary fact. It rains when water falls from the sky, Spirits eat Nightmares, and I’m _dying._

My hand goes over my chest. It burns. 

Rook says nothing. What can he say?

Everyone keeps _telling me that._ That my Heart is breaking apart, that I’m _doomed._ That can’t be true, it can’t be!

“Your death will be a bang but before that...you will be a Nightmare unleashed and attack anything in your way. Rabid.”

Hyne turns to reorganize something on a nearby shelf. 

“Your only chance is to tie yourself to a stronger Darkness. One that will support your cracks.”

“What, like _you?”_ I snap. Different face, different person, same old pitch!

I’m _no one’s_ tool!

(Are you sure?)

A long slow blink. “I was like you, once. A strong Spirit, determined to defeat all shadows in my way,” Hyne muses. “...but I was betrayed. Humans, turned against me.”

I wait. Narrow my eyes at him. Waiting. The point of this is...?

“I broke and my Darkness unleashed myself. My luck held, enough to swear service to Ultimecia.”

The walls and floor seem to shiver in response to that name. Is she... _listening?_

“You can do that same. Save yourself.”

I shake my head. “No. Not to her.” Never to her. I’m not gonna get myself trapped, become some pretty weapon to be shoved in a box once she’s done with me, like what happened to the Vanitas Remnant. 

“Then you will die. Be consumed.” Hyne says this with a sureness to it. A fate that I cannot avoid. 

I scratch at my facial scars, scowling. “No. I won’t. I _swear. “_

I’ve gone through too much now for _that._ I’ll find a way. 

(I have to.)

“Hm. Stubborn.” Hyne nods. Moves his fingers in some arcane (or possibly rude) gesture. 

The sound of grinding stone. 

I turn, to see the archway opened back up. Ready to let me leave. 

Shouldn’t say anything. 

“Why are you letting me go?” I blurt out. “You tried to kill me over getting your name wrong and tell me that I’m dying...seriously?”

Hyne considers me, red eyes looking me over. Now that _I’m_ really looking, the eyes are more...ochre in color. Still a deep red, but orangish at the edges. What could that mean?

Aren’t all Nightmares’ eyes the same red?

“I can wait. You will be a good meal for my Lady, when you fail.”

I swallow. My gut rebels. 

“No. No, I won’t.”

Hyne gestures to the door. “Go. Find your partnered Caster. Perhaps he will fall too. Delicious.”

Oh _hell no._ Don’t like that thought!

I back away, out of the archive place, careful to not take my eyes off Hyne the entire time. 

Keep walking backward until I run into something behind me. 

“Oof!”

Or someone. 

“Sorry, uh- Xehanort! My bad!”

I didn’t knock him over, at least. He’s taller than me, tall enough for that to be hard for me to accomplish. Sucky tall people. 

“Ruse, what were you doing?” His eyes look over the hallway suspiciously. 

I wave a hand. Smiling.

“Nothing important. You find who you were looking for?”

(I’m going to die, apparently. Nevermind that!)

Xehanort appears mildly frustrated, eyes glowing. “Not yet.”

I reach out to pat him on the back. He stiffens under the touch. “Oh well. I’m sure you’ll find ‘em eventually.”

“...Eventually. Yes.” He looks at his hands. “I do have more time to spend on the matter, after this fight.”

Oh, right! “Another partner fight?” I ask hopefully. 

Xehanort nods. “Against the ‘Living Ragnarok,’ I believe.”

“Oh, that’ll be Fang and Vanille, that’s their codename!” 

“A joint codename?”

“They must always fight together,” I theorize. “A double-teamer boss sort of deal.”

I elbow Xehanort. “Maybe we’ll get one too, huh? The Radiant Nightmare and the Mysterious Figure, how could we combine that...”

“I leave the naming up to you, I’m sure you’ll come up with an idea better than anything I could do,” Xehanort defers. 

At that, I have to stop and stare. Xehanort, saying that I can do _something better than him?_ Someone call the cops! The news! We’ve got an imposter on our hands here!

He frowns at me. “What’s the issue?”

I shake my head. “Nevermind. Just could have sworn you said I could come up with a good idea...”

“You do.” A smirk. “Every once in a while.”

I bark out a laugh. “Now that’s more like it!”

We walk along at a steady pace. Already I can feel my fear dropping away, becoming something more comfortable and casual. 

I shouldn’t be so comfortable about him. 

But. 

I am. 

For better or for worse. For whatever the future holds. 

And I’ll live to see it!

(I promise.)

* * *

Even sticks to the lab as the three of them explore the world of Hollow Bastion. 

An almost familiar world, to Kairi, in the same way dreams are familiar. Fuzzy but unclear about the details. 

Has she been here before, she wonders, letting her fingers trail along the cloth of someone’s wares. 

Kairi did come from somewhere before Destiny Islands, after all, falling from the sky like so many stars did that same night. She’s never really thought too much into it, though Riku had started obsessing over the concept shortly before...

The Keyblade. The Darkness. Before everything changed. Again. 

Enough of that. That was then and this is now. 

Kairi turns to her companion. “See anything you like, Naminé?”

Naminé tugs at the cloth bracelet on her arm, lost in thought. Her eyes go over the fabrics without really seeing them. 

Eventually she shakes her head. “Not now. I’ll come back later, with another friend.”

“Ruse?” Kairi checks. The person that Naminé is looking for, like how Kairi searches for Riku and Sora. A friend that Kairi would like to meet, if they can make this quiet girl smile so bright and hopeful. 

“Yes.” A small smile. “I think she’d like all the options here, for a new bandana. If she doesn’t want this back.” She tugs at the purple star-covered cloth again. 

“Maybe...I’ll get one too,” Kairi decides. “Then we can be a real team, right?”

Naminé looks surprised. “Really?”

A firm nod. “Of course!” She smiles and slowly, Naminé smiles back. 

Among the fabric...there’s not a whole ton of variety but there’s some. Bright colors, mostly. Kairi decides on a blue cloth patterned with raindrops and flowers. 

(The color is familiar...but why?)

Pays for it and ties it around her arm, like Naminé. 

She strikes a pose, hands on her hips. “How do I look?”

“Good.” Naminé mirrors her pose, showcasing her white outfit and purple bandana. “You think we’re ready?”

“I hope so.”

“Hey! I found someone we should talk to!” Xion calls out. 

“Coming!” Kairi calls back. She rushes down the path, Naminé close behind.

The someone in question is a...Moogle. Kairi’s never really talked to a Moogle before. She saw them around, before returning to the islands. But...

It’s new, that’s all. Different. A good kind of different. 

“Hello, kupo.” The Moogle bobs. “How may I help?”

“What’s your name?” Kairi asks politely.

The Moogle...stares. 

“Am I...not supposed to ask?” Uh, did she do something wrong?

“No, I was gonna ask too,” Xion says. “What’s your name?”

“Mog. Kupo.”

“Mog-Kupo?” Kairi tries. Doesn’t seem right...

“No, just Mog.” Mog seems a little confused and dizzy, in the air. 

Naminé takes charge, asking the next questions. “We’re looking for another Replica named Ruse. Have you seen her around?”

Mog’s pom-pom bobs. “No, not recently, kupo.”

The Moogle’s wings drop. “...do I know you, kupo? You seem familiar, Xion?”

Xion swallows. Looks away. “No, you don’t.”

Kairi...doesn’t know what to think of that exchange. Something’s wrong here, the same kind of wrongness that makes her feel how _familiar_ everything is, though she’s lived on Destiny Islands all her life. 

Her Heart pushes her to follow the thread. To ask about that. 

“Do you have anything that can find lost memories?” Kairi blurts out. Something, _anything,_ to tell her if she knows this world or if she’s just making everything up in her head. 

Interestingly, both Xion and Naminé react to that, jerking forward and back respectively. 

The Moogle, Mog, considers this, his wings fluttering behind him slowly. Like the air is made of honey. 

“Possibly. I would need a Lost Illusion to better craft a helper for that, kupo.”

“Really?” Xion breathes. Eager. “Where do we find that?”

Kairi blinks. Does Xion have lost memories too? Is that where this interest comes from?

It has to be. 

Mog puts a small paw under his chin. Thinking. “A place full of ghosts, kupo...you should talk to Monty. Her store is where there’s plenty of that, kupo!”

“Ghosts?” Naminé and Kairi exchange a worried look. 

“Maybe, kupo. Still a good place to start.”

“I can fight ghosts if they’re anything like Heartless,” Xion says confidently. She pulls a hand through her hair. 

Naminé nods. “Of course.” Her glow is brighter. 

It always is, after Xion speaks. It’s...kind of cute, actually. 

Kairi wants someone like that, who makes her brighter and happier to be around. 

Maybe Sora, or Riku, are like that. But...she doesn’t know if that’s exactly the same. Not yet. 

But maybe she’ll find out. Maybe she can explore and know for _herself._

Kairi grins. A team like this...she wants a weapon, but she’ll be sure to get there eventually. It’s more guaranteed to happen than when she was waiting around on Destiny Island, at least. 

She wants...wants to do _everything_ she can. 

And if her past holds some answers...

Well. 

She wants that too. To defend everyone she cares about. 

(Her Heart hums. Within, a weapon forges itself anew.)

* * *

The castle shakes from the Beast’s roars. 

Again. 

Monty lets her paws fall from her hidden ears once the hullabaloo passes over. Sighs. 

Monty may be getting a little tired of the soap opera going on in this castle. 

Just a smear. A smidge. 

Hard to do business when all of the customers are usually sticking to their own business, to avoid their master’s wrath, ignoring Monty’s offers and deals. 

What can be done?

A shiver of shadow. Monty doesn’t respond in time, before it _tears apart._

Three girls break through out of the Dark. Instead of the expected Safe Point. 

Monty just about chokes on her own spit, hummingbird heart speeding up even faster.

“Ah?!”

“Oh, we’re sorry!” The palest glowy one quickly spits out in return. 

“Our mistake,” the redhead follows up with. 

“Are you...Monty?” inquires the last. One with not a weak Heart like the pale girl, or a strong Light-filled Heart of the redhead, but a Heart whose patterns are much more closer to home for the Moogle. 

That organized Moogle-like Heart...they must be the “Replica” everyone is talking about. The Replica that might be made from the Recipe, the newest life in an entire decade. 

This “Replica”...they’re bright. Very bright. Monty squints. Must be Energy based, with a bit of Blazing mixed in. Much like herself!

“Yes, I am, kupo. What are your names?” she asks. Very politely. 

Even if a certain Beast refuses to have manners, that’s no excuse for herself not to!

“Xion,” says the Replica. Xion. A good name! Not very traditional, no ‘M’, but sometimes that happens. She’s not a Moogle too, so that might be part of it. 

Kairi is the strong Light Hearted one, while Naminé is the glowy one. 

Unique enough names and Hearts that Monty should be able to tell them apart. Humans usually are super hard, since they all look the same!

“How may I help, kupo?” Please be here to buy something, please be here for that!

“Have you heard of a ghost around here?” Naminé asks politely, hands in front of her. 

Monty thinks out loud. “A ghost, hm, kupo...there’s one up in the Beast’s room, I think, kupo. It’s a quick one, hard to catch.”

“In the Beast’s room?” Kairi frowns. “Then he won’t want us in there.”

“Most likely,” Naminé agrees. 

“Yeah, he’s always in there,” Xion contributes. “To fight the ghost...we might need to get him out somehow.”

The three turn to Monty expectedly. She can’t help but smile at the sight, like little Moglets lining up, how cute!

“You could talk to the Princess, Belle, kupo,” she suggests. “She wants to talk to Beast too, kupo.”

“Oh, Belle!” Kairi says brightly, slamming a fist into her other palm. “I met her once, at Hollow Bastion! Beast was there too, but he mostly wandered around fighting Heartless so we didn’t really talk...”

“But you could talk to Belle?” Naminé prompts. Her fingers go down to tap at her waist.

“I should be able to. It’d be nice to see her again.” The redhead looks wistful. 

“Then I can fight the ghost, since I have a Keyblade,” Xion says firmly. 

A Keyblade? Hm.

“Good plan, kupo,” Monty compliments them. Good to encourage adventurers, one gets more munny that way. “Now, I have several deals to offer you, kupo, if you’re going to fight...”


	49. Debilitate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Xion does what Replicas do best, Namine grabs for any connections, and Kairi takes a stand. Our Hero produces lots of whiplash, in the background.

“Beast and I...” Belle sighs, hands twisting around in her apron, “He’s been more angry lately. Less willing to talk.”

“That’s not good, if you’re fighting all the time,” Naminé says, concerned. 

“What if you try telling him you don’t like doing that?” Kairi suggests. “About what’s upsetting?”

“Maybe...it would help if you came with me.” The Princess looks hopeful. 

Kairi smiles. “Be happy to help,” she says for the both of them. 

Naminé isn’t sure what she expected from another Princess of Heart exactly, but Belle is not another Kairi. They’re both very nice, so maybe that is a Princess thing, but different otherwise. Naminé’s fingers itch to sketch the two talking to each other. 

A scene for later, when she can get to it. 

Xion split off earlier, to look for the ghost just in case it moved somewhere else. There’s been no Heartless, thankfully, though according to Xion, there’s usually a decent amount hanging around. 

Maybe two Princesses of Heart is enough to scare them off. Who knows?

Naminé certainly doesn’t, only that she lacks a...but she doesn’t. She doesn’t lack a Heart, but she’s no Princess. What does that make a Nobody of a Princess then, one with a Heart?

(How much Light does she have?)

She shakes her head. That doesn’t matter, not really. Not when Ruse is full of Darkness and is nicer than most people she knows. 

“So to Beast’s room, then?”

“...well I think he might be somewhere else in the castle right now. But that’s a good place to wait for him, since he always goes back there,” Belle agrees. 

“Okay, into the hall,” Kairi decides, leading the way. Belle walks up next to her, while Naminé trails behind. Keeping an eye out for enemies. 

Sleep doesn’t really work on Heartless, since they don’t sleep normally. A Blizzard might work, depending on the enemy in question. And Barriers would be the best...

It sucks that Kairi doesn’t have a weapon. She’s almost as eager to fight as Xion is, and Naminé thinks the Xion fighting all the time might be an Organization thing. 

The other Nobodies wanted to fight all the time too. 

Only Naminé was different. Weaker. 

The halls are dark and cold. Why don’t they keep them well-lit? Might help keep the Heartless away then...well, probably not. 

But it would be less scary!

A shadow on the wall!

Naminé shrieks. 

The Princesses pause their conversation and look at her. 

Naminé looks closer. Nothing. She feels heat flush her cheeks. “Sorry...”

“It’s okay, it is creepy here,” Belle agrees. “Too dark, like a horror story...”

The room feels warm, all of a sudden. More than just her cheeks. 

Another shadow. Naminé swallows her instinctive reaction and moves forward. In front of Kairi and Belle. 

“What is i-”

“Boo.” Familiar red hair, green animal eyes...coming out of the Dark like he’s always been there. Waiting, watching. Producing lots and lots of heat. 

Axel!

The Nobody puts his hands on his hips. “Didn’t expect to see you of all people here...”

Oh no, a mission for the Organization here? At least they hadn’t run into Xaldin like Riku had. They didn’t have any melons to fight that Nobody off with. 

Not that they have any weaknesses to exploit on Axel either right now...

Naminé...doesn’t feel safe. Not after hearing what he did to Ruse. She needs something stronger, more than a simple Barrier, to protect herself and Kairi and Belle. 

She  _ wants.  _

A flash of light. 

She’s...holding a shield. A black and white shield with a heart pattern on it.  _ Ruse’s  _ shield. With her, no Ruse in sight. 

How? 

“I don’t...know how this happened.”

* * *

I frown. Flick out my hand. Give a mental pull. 

Nothing. 

Try again. Still nothing. 

“Erm. Slight problem.”

Xehanort looks over to me warily. Expecting a prompt answer. 

I wiggle my hands at him. “No shield! Ta-da! A freehand fight this time!”

Xehanort only manages to muster up words after gaping at me for precious moments. Another mental image to save for later. Too bad he flips his hood up before I get a better look. 

“ _ Light,  _ Ruse, how does this happen to you?”

I stare up at Ragnarok (the Living Ragnarok as the announcer proudly yelled out), who stares at us with a possibly hungry look in their eyes. Her eyes? Something something two in one monster here. 

A huge spiky orange mane, glowing orange and red patterns on black flesh...reminds me of Obsidian from Steven Universe, actually. Very big. Very dangerous. 

Spit splatters from a fanged mouth, hissing on the floor. 

“Life’s funny like that, isn’t it?”

* * *

There’s no ghost anywhere in the castle. A lack of Heartless too, for some reason. Like someone’s just cleared through. 

Maybe they just missed an Organization mission, Xion thinks. 

But if the ghost is nowhere else, she’ll have to check the room with a rose in it. The Beast’s room. 

This castle...is a place full of memories. Where she found her Keyblade again, after losing it, thanks to Roxas. Where she collapsed, crying, and Ruse wrapped herself around her and told her she was worth something. 

No wonder it has a ghost in it. Ghosts are things that come from dead people memories, right?

Beast’s not in his room when Xion sneaks in. She lets out a nearly silent sigh of relief and gratitude for the fact.

In the back corner, shivers a black and white mass. A scythe is marked on it. 

That must be...

“The ghost!” Xion whispers, inching forward. Inching towards it. 

She’ll just take care of it right now and get that Lost Illusion. 

Xion summons Oblivion to hand. Better safe than sorry. The mass instantly flashes in response, zooming towards her. 

Swallows her up before she can do anything. 

Xion suddenly stands in a white room. Plain and looks exactly like the rooms in Castle Oblivion, before everything fell apart. 

Where is i-

A flash of movement in the corner of her eye. There!

She catches a scythe with her Keyblade before it scalps her. A whisper- ! Don’t let it whisper!

A bleeding black face surrounded by thorny pink hair  _ sneers,  _ and swings again. Xion leaps out of the way, casts a Fire. It comes the easiest of her spells, hotter and more wild than it used to be. 

Drive the ghost and its thorns back. A pressure on her, a countdown. Hissing  _ DOOM DOOM DOOM.  _ Die. 

Xion  _ won’t.  _

More Fire, a dance of it. Enough to fill dark holes full of it. Oblivion hits the scythe, swinging out into the white void. Away from the two fighters. 

The ghost reaches out with its hands, grasping and pulling. Instinct tells her...let it. 

_ Loss is- _

She’s choking. 

_ Loss is- _

Choking on something not quite smoke, not quite anything else. Drowns her. 

She is-  _ you are- _

_ You are vines and thorns under your newly gifted coat. You are nowhere close to human, unlike the others who may pretend. Petals drop in your wake.  _

_ Don’t bother picking them up. There will always be more. Unlike your Heart, which they tell you is gone forever. Gone unless you serve a cause you don’t know the details of.  _

_ A grimace pulls at your lips.  _

_ Even you, with your lack of defining anything, knows that’s an idiotic idea. To root yourself in a soil you don’t fully understand, a soil that may prove to be poison.  _

_ Besides... _

_ There are no answers for you here. You already know that for a fact.  _

_ Unless... _

_ You tear Organization XIII down to the foundation. Shift for answers on how they found you, found Larxene. Tear them apart and find the truth.  _

_ (Find her.) _

_ Loss is the scent of a flower you cannot name. It is a name on your lips that you cannot say. It is forgetting and remembering that you forgot. It is blood sunk down to the roots, feeding you where normal food cannot.  _

_ It is having another stand by your side and not know why it is so comfortable. _

_ (So comforting when you are both traitors, seeking a bloody victory.) _

The world comes back into focus and color as a single wave. 

Xion’s chest burns as she struggles to bring in as much air as she can. The ghost is gone.  _ Marluxia  _ is gone. 

There’s only...her. Just her. Alone with a rose in a room that’s been torn apart. 

Slowly, she stands. Summons her Keyblade. 

It comes but different. Not Oblivion. 

Pink and purple and green, flowers on it. A rose, she thinks those flowers are called. Thorny. Spiky.

The name? Divine Rose. 

A strong Keyblade. A Keyblade and a name,  _ Lauriam.  _

“Who were you?” Xion asks out loud. “Who did you forget?”

Because it’s too familiar, a burn in her chest and hands, being on the other side of forgotten. The forgetter this time, someone who searched until he died. 

Are Roxas and Axel looking for her still? In the way Vexen does with his words? Searching for a feeling, a person, they can’t quite place. 

She...her hand tightens around Divine Rose’s handle. She hopes so. Hopes with every bit of her being, an electricity in her veins. 

Lauriam. She won’t forget. 

“Hello?” Someone calls out behind her. Xion stiffens. No. It can’t be. 

But she was just thinking about it, wasn’t she? How someone must have recently cleared out the Heartless around here. A person with a Keyblade. Someone who is still  _ here.  _

She draws in a shuddering breath. “Roxas.” Turns. 

He looks the same as ever, the same tanned skin and same blond hair. 

His eyes...they go over her face. Like he can’t see it. The way he did when they first met. 

There’s a feeling like a stone in her throat that she can’t swallow.

“Who are you?” He frowns, and it’s so familiar that Xion just about cries at the sight. His eyes light upon her Keyblade. “How do you have a Keyblade?!”

Roxas summons his own. Silver and blue and gold, different from the one she mimicked before everything...became lost. Before it fell into Oblivion. 

What is its name?

Last time they stood like this, Keyblade to Keyblade...one of them almost  _ died.  _ And it wasn’t her. 

Xion shuts her eyes, brushing the memories away. 

This won’t be like what happened in the Coliseum. She won’t let it be. No hurting him ever again. 

“Roxas...you should leave.”

Roxas, of course, shakes his head. Stands his ground. 

“I’m not leaving until I know who you are.”

If that’s the case.

Xion lets her Keyblade vanish. Stands up straight, lets her eyes meet bright blue. 

“I’m Xion.”

* * *

“Mamma mia, here we go again~”

Big claw-paw smash. Dodge back. Still dancing, still singing. 

“My, my~ How can I resist you~!”

Kinda more nerve wracking to do this, without a handy shield for protection. Would my shield even work against a monster this big? 

Xehanort shakes his head at me, from a safer distance. His hood hides what is most likely a disapproving look on his face. No doubt about that. 

“This is probably one of the more insane courses of actions I’ve seen you take.”

“Only one, huh?” Guess future me does something worse. I almost can’t wait? Also, how?

Because this...this is pretty bad. Even I have to admit that. 

I can still fight, but my resources are...limited. Without a weapon. 

My Dark Suit’s claws aren’t nearly enough to get through Ragnarok’s thick hide, might need to improve that. Can do ice, but without Frozen Pride, it’s not nearly so thick or damaging. Using Darkness...limited to my claws, see above problem. 

I’m not a sitting duck, but mostly because that would involve me sitting and I’m not. 

Xehanort’s carrying the brunt of the work, fighting with his Ethereal Blades. While I’m being useless. Again. Shield not answering my call, ring ring the line’s busy...

The least I can do is lure the monster into striking range for Xehanort, which I’m doing with a vengeance and a song. 

“Just how much I missed you~!”

* * *

The man doesn’t really seem like a man at all, Kairi can’t help noticing. It’s like with Naminé, who's too bright and glows like a cave mushroom the way average humans don’t. Or Xion,with a face that shifts at the edges sometimes. 

Seems like there’s a lot of people that look human but aren’t, actually, now that Kairi’s thinking about it. More than one would think. 

He’s chalky, marked up like a clown. Green cat eyes staring, befuddled, at Naminé’s new shield. The room’s  _ very  _ warm, all of a sudden. 

“Where did that come from?”

Naminé bites her lip. Her fingers dig in deeper, into the shield’s handle...thingies. 

Kairi can help her here. “Does it matter?” she shoots back, taking a step closer. Draw his attention away from Belle and Naminé. She can do that. 

He shakes his head, like a dog who's just gone through a bath but with none of the water. 

“You’re...Kairi. Sora’s Princess.”

Kairi bristles at that. “I’m no one’s Princess!” 

“Kairi is herself and no one else,” Naminé surprisingly supports.

“Hm.” The man’s eyes flick between the two of them. “Never thought I’d see a Nobody and their Somebody stand up for each other.”

That’s nice and all, but...

“Who are you?” Kairi blurts out. 

The redhead straightens. “Name’s Axel, got it memorized?”

Axel...that’s an uncommon enough name that Kairi shouldn’t have any problems with that. She nods. 

“What an odd name,” Belle says. 

“A little bit, yeah,” Kairi agrees. 

“Hey, that’s rude! I thought Princesses were supposed to be nice...” Axel mutters. 

Naminé steadies her shield. “We don’t have to be anything!”

Cat eyes squint at her. “Look, I don’t want to fight or anything...but that shield. It seems kind of familiar, like I’ve seen it before...”

He snaps his fingers. 

“Right!” Points at the purple cloth on Naminé’s arm. “That was on the...Replica. Where’d she go?”

“None of your business!” Naminé snaps. Losing her temper for the first time Kairi’s known her. Her eyes flash and the room goes very bright for a brief moment, almost a flash as well. 

Axel blinks. Raises his hands. “Oh, okay! No talking about the Replica, got it.”

The world shivers around them. Kairi knows this feeling, has known what it means from...she can’t remember when. Almost forever. 

The shivers of Heartless attacking. 

Shadows unstick themselves from the surrounding darkness, yellow eyes glittering. The statues move and groan, having yellow eyes of their own blinking open. 

“Heartless!” 

Axel summons wheel-like weapons, covered in fire. Naminé readies whatever spells he has, allowing the shield to escape into the ether.

“I don’t know how to use it,” she explains to expectant looks, “Worse than useless, that way.”

Kairi....Kairi grits her teeth. She’s the  _ useless  _ one here _.  _ She never wanted to be useless again, a doll to wake up, to defend! For two boys to duel over her corpse!

Like Belle, retreating behind them right now, with no offense intended. Kairi wants to be more than a Princess!

(Wake up!)

(What will you choose, Princess? What are you  _ now? _ )

Her dreams...she’s already made her choice. She stretches out her hand, following an undeniable instinct. Reaching out for what has always been hers. 

_ You walk the path of the Champion, under the light of past stars. The road will be long and often hard.  _

_ But don’t be afraid. And don’t forget. _

A Keyblade in her hand, flower covered and gold. She knows its name like she knows the color of her hair, knows her own voice. 

Destiny’s Embrace.

_ You are the one to lead the way home.  _

* * *

Out of nowhere, a familiar black and white shield fizzes into existence in my hands. 

How about that?

“Back in business, baby!” I shout to the heavens, the same heavens I raise my newly returned Sworn Oath to. 

Ragnarok proceeds to then treat me like a punching doll, whacking me across the arena. 

“AAAHHHH!”

I skip and skid my way, my very handy shield saving me from having my guts splattered like so much jam. Still bruised up, but that’s manageable compared to losing my innards. Come to a stop (by hitting the far wall), I raise a shaky thumbs-up. 

“I’m okay!”

The crowd cheers. 

Across the way, I spy Xehanort putting his head in his hands. 

Nice. 

Various people in the crowd raise signs with various numbers on them. Pi, 4/3, 69...

_ Nice.  _

* * *

Roxas can’t see her face.

Something’s wrong about not being able to see her face. That name...

“Xion?”

Right away, Roxas knows he’s made a mistake. 

A shiver as ‘Xion’ withdraws, turns away from him. “You don’t remember.”

Roxas steps closer. Oathkeeper burns in his hand, right through his glove. 

(You made a promise!)

But just because he doesn’t know her doesn’t mean...

“I’ve been...looking for someone.” Roxas scratches at his ear. “A girl, with black hair and purplely eyes. Me and Axel are both looking.”

A sharp inhale. “You are?” She sounds gutted. Down to the core. 

“Yes.” Should he offer his hand? A thrum inside tells him to. 

Let Oathkeeper fade away, and he reaches out...

Too late. 

Heartless appear, ready to start swarming. Icy Cubes, those are the worst!

Xion summons back Divine Rose, readies her stance. 

(How does he know the name of her Keyblade?)

“I thought I got them all!” Roxas complains. This time, it’s Missing Ache that buzzes into existence in his left hand. 

Both swing into action. 

They fight together perfectly, fitting into each other’s gaps and guarding the weakness. Xion uses Fire, almost as much as Axel goes, melting the Icy Cubes easily. Bashes the rest into submission with the heavily weighted Divine Rose. 

Roxas increases the firepower using well-timed Aeros. 

A perfect team. 

Like they’ve been doing this forever. 

The Icy Cubes are wiped out easily. Unable to stand up to superior teamwork. 

His Keyblade swings as he moves, unused to the backhanded grip. He accidentally hits Xion’s.

Oops!

Missing Ache meets Divine Rose.  _ Clang!  _

_ Pink hair. Hands tight around a small throat. He killed my sister! _

_ Blond. Kicking, gasping for breath. I did and I don’t know why! I’m sorry! _

Roxas stumbles away, Keyblade disappearing from his left hand. Across from him, Xion does the same, hood falling back. Letting him see her face. 

He meets blue-purple eyes, wide in a face darker than his own, framed by short black hair. The girl from his dreams. It’s  _ her.  _

“What...what was  _ that?” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not that any of you probably care...but Beast's fine. He just got himself stuck in the stupid KH2 secret passage with the servants.


	50. Devour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everything goes downhill very quickly and our Hero's past seeks to devour...well, everything. 
> 
> Which Hero wins a fight between two of them?  
> The one that's already won, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhangers a plenty! Unpleasant times ahead!

“We got...Orchalicum!” I hold the materia in question over my head triumphantly. “Ba-dada-do-dah!” Hum the Zelda treasure theme...no, wait, that’s wrong. I’m doing the Final Fantasy fanfare instead. 

Gotta keep those straight. 

Put the materia away right after, in the same place my shields go. Hopefully it won’t get snatched from there, unlike my shields. 

“One step closer to a sturdier Heart,” Xehanort notes. No other response to my antics. Maybe he’s just gotta too used to them now that he’s prepared for them? That’s no fun. 

Have to come up with new material...

“I’ll be leaving once more. Will you...” Xehanort hesitates. Like pulling teeth, admitting he cares. It would be funny if it weren’t so sad. If he wasn’t an asshole. 

I roll my shoulders. Flap a hand at him. “I’ll be fine! Go find your...whatevers.”

“Very well.” There’s an air of relief as he turns on his heel. Walks away and vanishes into the crowd. 

I stare after him. I was...going to say something else, wasn’t I?

I slam my fist into my other hand. “Oh right! I needed to tell him he’s a jerk for not fighting better in the fight and be back soon!”

“Better do that sooner rather than later,” a familiar voice agrees from behind me. 

I turn and see...

Fang and Vanille...here already?

“You’re back?”

“Ragnarok is both of us, not just one person,” Vanille reminds me, “So we can return faster.”

“Helping each other out.” Fang frowns. “Your Caster partner needs to do more of that, actually.”

I laugh awkwardly. “Yeah, he’s an ass...but I’m working on it?”

“He’ll either become better or won’t and you both die.” Whoa, awfully dark there, Vanille? She seems to realize it, smiling brightly. “But you’ll be fine, I’m sure of it!”

Time for a subject change!

“Um, do you remember anything as Ragnarok?”

“There was...” Fang screws up her face, “Singing?”

“Heh, yeah.” My fingers scratch at my cheek scar. 

“You did a great job,” Vanille assures me. Her hand is on my shoulder as she leans closer to my ear. “Just...be careful, okay?”

“She’s watching,” Fang says sternly. “ _ Always  _ be careful.”

I nod and smile. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry so much!”

Walk away towards the next arena waiting area. 

“Be sure to win!” Fang calls after me. 

“I will!” I promise. I have to. 

Rook’s been awfully quiet...but it's the same as before. Probably fighting the shadow thing again and I hate the thought of it. Gonna get him out eventually. Have to. 

I look up at the tall ceilings, at the countless rooms of Dream Eaters surrounding me. Life surrounding me, reminding me of everything I can’t risk losing to death. 

A few lone stages, to get more materia?

Easy-peasy. 

I grin. 

I can do this. 

* * *

This time, Xehanort does manage to find the little group of Heroes trooping through the Dark. With a new companion, even, at their sides. 

Aqua, one of  _ his  _ future apprentices. 

“One down, another to go. How far will your luck go in the Dark?” Makes sure his voice carries, that he’s heard. 

“You’re back!” Everyone visibly prepares some sort of attack as soon as they see him, except for Aqua who follows after a moment. 

Smart of them, to do that here. 

“Yes. I am,” he agrees. Jumping down, to land in front of them. The closest one,  _ Riku,  _ if he’s correct, flinches. 

No need to hide his smirk when his hood serves enough as a disguise for that. 

“Are you here to stop us?” Sora says. Very loudly, not quite a shout. Close, though. 

He tilts his head back. “Do I need to? You are already so far from where you need to go.”

Aqua...whole and alive from the Realm of Darkness. A deeper place that even he doesn’t tread, without a reason. 

He studies her, from the safety of hood. 

There’s something about her...something  _ Dark.  _ A taint that no one else is responding to. Should he say something?

“I thought I said you should overcome your weakness. None of you have shown signs of that. Perhaps you should leave? Try again later, if at all?”

“No way!” Sora is so... _ loud.  _

Almost loud enough to cover skittering in the dark. 

Xehanort looks over. As does Riku. Riku speaks first, “Something’s coming.”

“Yes. Be ready.” Xehanort summons his Ethereal Blades. The group thankfully doesn’t take that as a sign to attack him, though Aqua clearly wants. 

She must recall his blades from a future meeting, one he hasn’t been through yet. 

Yellow eyes in the surrounding dark mists...but they shouldn’t be Heartless. Not in the Realm of Dreams, where Nightmares thrive instead. 

Yet. 

He gets a clearer look as the creatures draw closer, whispering  _ words,  _ even. 

Red claw like fingers, childlike forms, and the rasping of “Lux, lux.” 

There is only one thing these creatures can be. And they shouldn’t  _ exist right here and now.  _

“The strange Shadows...I think I’ve seen them before,” Aqua mutters, raising her Keyblade. Her armor shimmers into existence on her form. 

“Those are Darklings.” Xehanort raises an unseen eyebrow. Surely Aqua, being a properly taught Keyblade wielder, would know that much?

If not, then her Master failed her. 

A disappointing thought. For reasons Xehanort refuses to explore mentally. 

Aqua flushes. Awful coloring against her blue hair. “Of course I know what they are! There just...weren’t any pictures of them in the books, so I thought they were another type of Shadow Heartless.”

“What are Darklings?” Riku interrupts. “They do look kind of like Neoshadows to me.”

The Mouse King appears worried. Concerned. “They’re fallen Keyblade wielders.”

“They’re  _ what?” _

“They're still Heartless, so we fight them,” the duck,  _ Donald,  _ contributes with a stomp of his foot. “That’s obvious!”

“How enlightened of you,” Xehanort says dryly. “Any other conclusions you’d like to add to the conversation?”

“I don’t really think you should be having a definition discussion right now,” another voice speaks out of the Dark. The Darklings quiet down, shuffling around and claws digging into the dirt. Their commander, most likely. That’s possibly not good. 

Xehanort levels one of his blades in their direction. “Do you have information to contribute, then?”

The speaker steps into the limited light, exposing themselves to be seen. 

They wear...white. A white coat, the exact opposite of his own black one. He can’t see their eyes, their face, like how no one can see his own with his hood up. 

If Xehanort  _ had  _ to guess (he’s hesitant now, with such. After Ruse), he would pin the figure as feminine. Female to his male. 

The mirroring does not go unnoticed by the rest of the party. 

Sora scratches his head. “Are you...you know? Friends?”

“No.” Xehanort and the white figure say at the same time. He narrows his eyes at them. His opponent is most likely doing the same.

“Huh.” Sora doesn’t say anything more, just  _ looks  _ at them. At Xehanort, more specifically.

...It’s a good thing that he as first Xehanort has already made his pick of vessel, Ruse. Because if the other option is this  _ boy... _

Terrible. Ugh. 

“Three of my targets in the same place? How  _ fortunate.” _

A scythe appears in the figure’s hands. Black and white, checkered like a chessboard. A pattern of a flower, where blade meets staff. That scythe...he  _ knows  _ that scythe. 

(After it nearly decapitated Hermod, so many years ago.)

“But first... _ shatter.” _

What? Xehanort narrows his eyes. The Darklings don’t move. 

Behind him, a loud thump. He moves his head enough to catch what’s going on in the corner of his eyes. Keeping his weapon pointed at their obvious opponent. 

Aqua’s fallen. Shaking and shivering, pale as death. 

(Xehanort knows the color of death. Knows it  _ very well  _ indeed.)

“Aqua!” Sora, of course, reaches out first. His hand brushes against her shoulder. 

_ Darkness  _ seeps out. Riku grabs him, pulls him away. Too late. 

Xehanort turns to better see. 

There’s...Darkness creeping up Sora’s hand now, eating away his  _ flesh,  _ everyone staring horrified. He acts. “ _ Stop!” _

A quick appliance of Time magic freezes the corruption in its tracks. Won’t hold forever, but long enough for this. The duck and dog rush to Sora’s side, examining the wound loudly. Not with any luck either, it seems. They wouldn’t, not with what that injury is actually doing to Sora. Breaking him down, breaking down the extra light that Ruse claims was gifted by a Princess of Heart. 

Riku...actually gives him a  _ nod.  _ What? Why would he do that?

Aqua’s still shaking, Darkness drifting off of her waves. 

“What happened, Aqua?” The Mouse King asks frantically. The fairies flutter about in a panic. 

“I don’t know!” says one, “She was fine before now, wasn’t she?”

Xehanort comes to a painful realization, one as bright as the sunlight that does not enter this realm. He turns back to the figure. “A trap.”

Taking advantage of these Heroes’ kindness and compassion. Xehanort would be impressed were he not on the receiving end of it. 

The figure giggles behind a dainty gloved hand. “Yes, clever of you to figure that out. You may have stopped it for now...but eventually the shell will break. Eventually the Heartless will be Heartless once again.”

Riku snarls. His  _ shadow  _ growls as well. “No, he won’t! I’m stopping you right now!” He lashes out with his blade. 

The figure catches it with their scythe. Holds it there. 

“Who are you?” Xehanort hates to ask...but might as well, before negotiations break down entirely. Before the Darklings, already hopping closer, swarm into action. 

A cold smile. A flash of yellow eyes, orange hair. 

“You may call me  _ Ema.” _

* * *

Fighting single is fun, in a different way from fighting with Xehanort is. 

A good callback to my Coliseum days, dancing and fighting to my Heart’s content.

Hitting the final stages now, something’s good about to come up. I await it with glee. 

My surroundings, my arena’s ‘mirage’ so to speak... this time is on a much brighter platform than usual. Most of my fights occur in the usual electronic no-illusion stage or in cave-like places. This is  _ very  _ different. 

White stone, well-light skies, purple waterfalls. I’m walking through an inch deep worth’s that same reflecting purple water. Or is it pink?

The smell of flowers is strong in the air. How’d they manage that? Huh. 

“Oh, this is Radiant Garden.” Birth by Sleep era, of course. It’s so...pretty. Kind of terrible, after seeing the aftermath and aftereffects of Darkness on it. Sucks. 

Wait. Radiant Garden. I said the name out loud, instead of it being blurted out. 

“What is going on here?”

“On one side, we have the Radiant Nightmare. She’s lean, she’s mean, she’ll tear your Heart out and feed it to yah!”

I frown up at the direction of the announcer’s voice. Rude. I’m not like that at all! But anything for an awesome rep, right?

“The other, a Keyblade Warrior from the Land of Departure. He’s raring for a fight, the one and only Enduring Will!”

Oh. 

_ Oh.  _

A rumbling as the other fighter comes in. Covered in a bronze and red-tinted armor. An armor that I recall very well from countless times splattered against a rocky graveyard in Kingdom Hearts II, and again from Birth by Sleep. 

My ears catch heavy breathing, my eyes blackened streaks on his armor. Must have been through a heavy fight earlier. A body of flesh inside the metal. That’s good, but also bad?

Who else would it be?

But the one and only  _ Terra.  _ One of the three protagonists in Birth by Sleep. The guy who’s stubborn enough to ‘linger’ on as a ghost for another decade to kick the ass of his worst enemy. Takes some pretty heavy duty willpower to do that!

A difficult fight lies ahead. 

Beans. 

I steady myself with a deep breath. Summon Sworn Oath, preparing for a heavy hit. 

“Come and get me.” I snarl. 

Terra, instead rushing forward in an attack, stalls. Catches his breath and just..stands there. 

“You coming or not?” I call over. 

That helmet shakes a negative in response. “I’m not fighting any kids who haven’t attacked me first,” he says very confidently. “Where’s the real thing?”

Real thing?  _ Real thing? _

“Hey! I am that real deal, thank you very much!” My Dark Suit would probably be bristling had it any hair to do so with. I tap into my Darkness, letting it enter the visual spectrum. 

Terra jerks at the sight. 

I sneer. “Ready now?” My bandana feels a bit crooked, I’ll have to fix it after the fight...

Attack first, huh. Still don’t have decent range, but I’ll try my best!

Leap forward, lash out. 

Terra defends himself, of course. Wouldn’t be a fight if he didn’t.

Yet. 

When his Keyblade brushes up against my shield...

_ A pressure, an unbearable weight-! _

I break away, jump back. Gasping. What the hell, what the hell!

That Keyblade, I  _ felt  _ it. Down to my core, shivering through the glass covering my Heart. Never felt that before, never ever. 

I’ve fought people with Keyblades before...haven’t I?

No. I haven’t. Thinking it through, the only person with a Keyblade that I’ve faced directly in battle against said Keyblade is Xion and she wasn’t really trying at all. Trying to fight, trying to win. 

Unlike Terra here, probably needless to say. 

What the  _ hell.  _ I hate Keyblades now, just decided. Absolute worst. 

Guess I can’t tank ‘em. 

“Back off!” I growl and go for the face. Hit him as hard as I can with my shield. 

A crunch sound! Lift away, not even a crack. Awww.

Terra decides at this point to hit back, Keyblade catching my ribs with its terrible pressure behind it. Steals the breath right out of my lungs. 

Wait. ‘Terrible.’ Heh.

Get up, don’t stay down. My side aches but is already healing up. Replica healing is suuuper fuunn. Not actually sure if being sarcastic about that or not, hm. 

“Fire!”

Another hit, I dodge just in time. And a pretty nasty fire it looks like, another dodge. 

If I can’t take him directly...indirect will have to do. 

I am surrounded by water, after all. Perfect. 

Frozen Pride, out. Tap it against the ground, against the water, concentrate. Ice spirals out in frozen fractals around me and gosh, did I just make a Frozen reference right there?

A nice ice pond. One that my boots give me plenty of traction on, probably because it’s  _ my  _ ice and magic works funny like that sometimes. 

For Terra... _flump._ “Aaah!” I wince as he impacts the icy ground pretty heavily. Whoa, that looked like that _hurt._

Since he’s down...time to wail on him!

“I would feel bad but I really can’t afford to lose,” I tell my fallen foe. Step forward, shield raised for nice big ol’ smack. Probably gonna give him brain damage at this rate. 

Quick as lightning, an armored glove snaps around my ankle. Pulls me over too. 

I don’t really  _ slide  _ over, but there’s another thing about physics kicking in right about now. Big beefy dude with Muscles, against a small, probably lighter than she should be fourteen year old?

No contest. I go down. 

“Ah!”

Bang my head, ouch, do I have a concussion? Maybe I should get a helmet...

Mistake! I can’t win at grappling due to aforementioned physics issue. Thankfully Terra seems more intent on holding me down instead of tearing me apart. 

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore,” he says, like he’s talking to a kid. 

Hm? Well, too bad about that!

“We’re in an arena! It doesn’t work like that!” Squirm, reach...

My hand reaches out, latches onto the edge of armor plating. I’ve learned from Ragnorok, see, and my claws are sharper. Thicker. 

Better at leveraging cracks, at  _ breaking things apart.  _

“Darkness,” I breathe. Clench and tear. “Dark Claw!”

Terra jerks back and away, as I tear off a chunk of his armor, narrowly missing skin. Just giving me enough space to breath. Slip free, out of the grip. 

Pull on the loneliness, the ice. It creeps up around us, crunching about my armored foe. Trapping him in place. 

Nice guy, but the way he told me to stop fighting...rubs me the wrong way. 

“Screw you,” I inform him, “Don’t talk down to me like that, jerk.”

Now, where should I hit next...? Don’t want to hurt him too bad (well, mostly) but I need to take him out in a way that nets me a win. 

A cracking noise. I frown, tilt my head for better sound intake. It couldn’t be, could it?

Ice shatters, hits my face, leaves gouges in my cheeks. 

Terra stands, shivering, shaking. His Keyblade is out and he spins in the air, hitting the ground with it. The earth  _ erupts.  _

A finishing move!

“Begone!”

I don’t move out of the way in time. The rocky earth rising, breaking up in chunks, hits me full forces. I hit a far end wall. One that looks very castle light, thanks for that, Mirage Arena. 

Slide down. Can’t get up, body feels like jelly...

“The victor is the  _ Enduring Will!  _ Just like his name, he endured every hit and came out our winner!”

Stupid confetti, getting up my nose. My surroundings fade, as I fade too. My first loss. 

Something I needed to avoid at all costs. If I wanted to avoid getting bond, like Fang and Vanille suggested would happen. Shit. 

I’m so screwed. 

* * *

My new area of existence is dark. No, just dark,  _ Dark.  _ Can’t see very far in it, and blood trickles down my face, salty into my mouth. 

Loser. 

Lost a fight to a guy who wasn’t putting in his all...

“I’m a sham,” I moan, whacking my bruised up noggin against the ground. Ouch. Slowly stand up, every bone aching. 

“That we must agree.”

I freeze. My gut revolts against me, as does my Heart. Nonono. 

I don’t like this. Not at all. 

Slowly, my eyes look up. 

Silver hair, purple markings, disapproving red eyes looking down at me...

It’s the Lady of the Arena Herself. 

_ Ultimecia.  _

One whose attention I had to escape no matter what. Guess I failed at that. 

“You were supposed to be the Mysterious Figure.” Ultimecia has the audacity to sound  _ disappointed.  _ What, I’m not good enough? Not compared to Xehanort and his ass?

Of course I’m not. I’m not canon, after all. 

“That difficulty level...” I slowly realize out loud, “it spiked. Too much, too soon, the fights don’t normally go that way...”

Which leads to...it was a  _ trap.  _ A trap for Xehanort, apparently, that I walked right into it. Like a moron.

“You screwed me over!” I shout. What the hell?! Of course she did, but man, I expected a little more time at least! A way to prepare!

Red eyes look at me. Heavy lidded, cold. “Of course we did. No holes in our rule of time must be permitted.”

“So what, time travelers personally offend you?” I laugh. Sounds about right. 

“Silence, little Nightmare. You do not match up, but we do desire a  _ meal.” _

_ Shit.  _

I watch, horrified, as Ultimecia’s human face  _ unhinges itself.  _ Peels back to reveal a faceless head with spiked  _ wings  _ coming out of it. Too many limbs, makes my brain melt. The human face draps from the bottom, a discard cloak still attached. Red and purple and blue and covered in  _ Nightmare symbols.  _

The wings form another kind of jaw, insectoid. 

I’m going to  _ puke.  _

And die, but the puking is going to come first, bile burning up as it races up my throat. 

Maybe if I hold onto it long enough, I can burn my way out of Ultimecia’s stomach with my own stomach acid...

A shiver. In reality, in Ultimecia, take your pick. All that matters is that those jaws pause. 

“Toxicity...” Ultimecia says, sounding displeased. Where have I heard that-?

Oh, that’s right. A name that Ultimecia said after the Darklings attacked, before I went...crazy...

Oh  _ no.  _

It can’t be. Whatever Rook’s fighting, whatever tries to get in my head, this  _ can’t be it.  _

“Out of the frying pan and into the fire,” I whisper to myself. Fight the urge to start giggling hysterically, if I start, I won’t stop. 

So  _ damned screwed.  _

Something else shakes itself from the Dark, purple and red like Ultimecia. Classic Nightmare colors, I guess.

It’s...catlike. Somewhat smaller than Ultimecia, but no less imposing for the fact, red eyes glowing bright. The red of blood. Normal people blood, that is. 

An itch at my brain, where have I seen it before...have I seen it before?

(“You can’t hurt me. Why even try?”)

I curl up on the ground, words shooting through my brain, rocks through a glass window. Leaving a shattering headache in their wake. 

Words continue to fly over my head (somewhat literally). 

“You come here, after disrupting  _ our  _ territory. You dare.”

“Only to claim what I own, of course. I would not otherwise.”

“Do you own it? It fought for us.”

“You know it does. It bears my mark, my crafting. Hand it over.”

“A fee, to be paid, for tending what is ‘yours.’ This, we demand as is our right.”

A dry laugh. “Will this ‘Mysterious Figure’ do, along with some Keyblade wielders?”

A pause. “Acceptable. Payment, up front.”

“Payment when it comes here. I will take it first, before you devour mine.” Something rattles against stone. “Here. A down payment, even.”

“...Very well. As agreed.”

“As agreed.”

Something sharp grips one of my arms. Drags me away. 

I puke for real this time, vomit cotton candy pink and blue across the floor. The dragging doesn’t stop. Dragging me further into the Dark like every horror story combined in one. 

Eventually I come to a stop. Eventually I can sit up and take in my new surroundings, after being pulled through who knows how many Corridors. 

The purple crystal walls, the sounds of rushing water...I know this place. I know it from...

My hand clutches at my chest. 

Why does my Heart  _ look like this place? _

In clearer light, I remember what the creature squatting across from me is. 

Nightmare Chirithy, from KHux. A game that I barely knew the details of but...shouldn’t it be dead?

(Something’s wrong.)

“I see you thought you would escape me, pet. You failed.” Its voice is a cat’s growl and the rattling of chimes. Rusty chimes. 

“What are you talking about? I don’t know you!” As soon as the words leave, I feel it in my chest, my gut:  _ a lie.  _

(What do I know? What did I  _ do? _ )

The Nightmare Chirithy, Toxicity, makes a clucking noise. Somehow, with its tongue. It’s easily the most terrifying noise I’ve heard today, thanks, and that’s had some serious competition. 

“You tried erasing them, I see. Escaping the chains like I did so long ago...clever but not clever enough.”

Claws, digging into my chest. Breaking it open, cracking me apart, to see my  _ Heart.  _

I scream. No sound comes out. A void. 

The holes in my brain, in my past, suddenly are  _ filled.  _ Getting struck with the mental verison of a thunderbolt, over and over again, trapped on the Thunder Plains. 

I fall, to my knees, fingers digging into the ground. 

My body shakes, shaking itself to pieces. 

“Why don’t you see your  _ purpose?” _

The memories devour me whole. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is a flashback one. Named...Desecrate.


	51. Desecrate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her name was Harper. Harper Rose Hartstone.  
> The Nightmare’s Goal. Why does the caged bird sing?  
> (This was no choice at all.)
> 
> Side B to Undreamt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for character death, implied brainwashing, desperation, and a corpse. This chapter is named Desecrate for a reason.   
> This is a heavy one. Planned from about chapter four of this fic, honestly? Been building for a while.  
> Sections of text taken directly from chapters Undreamt and Replacement.

The last person I talked to, before...everything, was my sister. Ema. 

Maybe that’s why I remember her the most clearly. Out of everyone, out of my family, my friends, my life. 

We argued. 

Not sure on what, only that emotions were high. Probably something stupid, meaningless. Most of our fights were like that, between my younger sister and I. 

I stomped away. She screamed at my back. Her face was red, from both the cold and the emotions. I shouted back, said I needed to take a walk. 

I...

I never saw her again. I never saw anyone again, after that. 

Anyone I cared about, who loved me, who knew me. 

That’s the funny thing, about living. Or dying. You never know what your last conversation will be with someone. Whether it’s on your part or theirs. 

What happened next...I don’t remember. 

I don’t think I want to remember actually. Only that...I fell. I bled. 

Became one of those hundreds of people who just disappear. Are never heard from ever again, bodies never recovered. 

Sometimes those disappearances are from slipping through actual metaphysical cracks. Holes that disappear as quickly as they appear. Pure accidents. 

Never really seen, never documented. 

How could they be, when those one-in-a-million chances are always small fry? Practically nobodies, in a world that is so very big and people can vanish just by walking down the wrong street. 

You don’t think about that, you can’t. Not until it happens to you. 

So. Where was I?

Oh. Yes.

I fell. It was Dark, you know. All of my falls have been Dark. Very Dark. 

Torn my jeans on the rocks of reality, bouncing my way down. Lost my glasses. 

Look. If you fall that far. If you’re not some badass heroic figure...you’re gonna die. 

Simple as that. 

I was lucky enough to survive the first step, the Fall. Not unlucky enough to avoid the yellow eyes in the Dark, that blinked open, seeing new prey in their midst. 

I might’ve been shocked to see realistic Heartless-looking creatures crawl out of the shadows. If I was not already in shock, laying there like a rabbit whose spine’s been snapped. Would have been better, if it snapped, possibly. 

Who would have guessed that a JRPG would have had it right? That apparently this is what awaited humanity outside the walls of our reality?

I wasn’t saved. 

That’s not what I would call that monstrous figure swooping down on me, picking me up. 

Maybe I thought I was rescued. Maybe I actually started breathing again. 

Just enough to pull in breath to scream with, as my mysterious “savior” started shredding me alive. 

Not literally, physically, but...

The pain of a heartbreak. Being rejected or laughed at. Being so terrified that your heart almost stops, the ache of a panic attack. 

I felt all of those and more, as the inside of my mind was slowly pulled apart. 

-

I kissed a boy once. Fifteen. First kiss. He kissed me back. 

I threw up afterwards. 

Wondered what was wrong with me. 

Something’s wrong with me.

-

My friend taught me how to dance. Better at dancing than acting, at least. 

How to move my body, to throw my hands up, to shake. To sing. 

We move to the beat, while everyone else around us is too ashamed to. 

The peppy music almost makes me forget...something. 

-

Keep cutting myself on the thorns, as I weed. 

Maybe I should have worn gloves. Tending my parents’ roses. Rose like my middle name, their favorite thing. 

Looking up, I frown. 

What’s a rose?

What’s missing?

-

I’m playing a game. Kingdom Hearts. Casting Thundagas until I run out of MP, cursing at the screen as Xemnas grabs Sora  _ yet again.  _

Hate having to do the Riku controls, though it is kind of cool...

Triangle, triangle, triangle! Why is everything triangle?!

_ Oh. Yes. This is what I need.  _

_ Perfect.  _

-

Only for it to stop, out of nowhere, snapping my thoughts back together.

I woke up. But did I really?

(Maybe I shouldn’t have.)

* * *

But that was then. This is now. 

Now, I’m...look, it’s kinda hard to find words, alright? Are there words for living in an alternate dimension, a space-between-dimensions? At the mercy of some ex-magical girl mascot cat who likes taking my brain apart. 

Well. I tried. Guess those words could possibly work. 

There are holes in my brain. I can practically feel them. But what about the ones I don’t? Every day(?) I’m taken apart. 

More and more is missing. 

Eventually...

There will be nothing of me left. 

I don’t want that to happen. But is there any way to stop it?

I linger at the edges of this cluster in the Dark, this ‘unreality’ as they call it. Until my captor drags me out for another round. 

A bitter laugh, echoing through the surrounding crystal. I’m just  _ Naminé  _ in this scenario, aren’t I? A useless girl who knows too much, can change the story for the bad guys. 

Make them  _ win.  _

...I’ve never been a fan of the Chain of Memories storyline. I hate it even more now that I’m in my own twisted reflection of it. 

I remember this: I’m nineteen. I have a sister named Ema. I’m going to college for a degree in...a degree in...

I...don’t remember. 

My head is in my cold hands, I’m shaking in the cracks of the cave, the cracks of a reality I cannot reach. As more time passes, there’s less and less of me. Darkness eating me up. 

Maybe one day, there will be nothing left but a chain. 

A chain of memories. A tool, used into oblivion. 

My hands shake and shake, as I examine them with every ounce of composure I can muster. Which isn’t much. 

Blackening, like the pictures of serious frostbite. Creeping up my arms, to rest of me. But the tips, my fingers...they’re red. Bright red and clawlike. 

What the rest of me looks like...I can only be grateful that the crystal-like walls surrounding me aren’t  _ that  _ reflective. 

The Darkness is swallowing me up. Soon, there won’t be anything left of  _ me.  _ And what will be in its place...I shiver. Don’t want that. 

I shift slightly, and one of my hands slides under my butt. Digs out what I’ve carefully collected over the- actually, I don’t know how it’s been. Time passes strangely in the Realm of Darkness. Only...that I don’t have much time  _ left.  _

Slivers of old metal, pieces of weapons that have managed, against all odds, to survive this far.

_ Keyblade  _ shards. The only weapons that can do serious harm to Darkness. To  _ me.  _

“Alright. This is it.”

My only and last chance. 

I should do it. I  _ have  _ to do it. Before there’s nothing left of me. 

My hands can’t stop shaking. 

“C’mon, c’mon,” I hiss. Need them to be still, to make the cuts. 

Swallow the bile. Push back the fear.  _ Act.  _

The sharpest shard, the least rusty, I angle right about the vein. Where the black-purple Dark is starting to creep. 

“Lux, lux?”

My entire body jerks and the shard drops from my suddenly loose fingers. Clattering on the crystal floor. 

Shit.

A Darkling peers around the corner, yellow eyes almost  _ mocking  _ me. Catching me in the act. Double shit. 

I’m totally screwed. Because if a Darkling’s around...

“Hello there.”

I shriek, just about leaping out of my skin at the diabolical stuffed animal staring at me. 

Nightmare Chirithy is sure to be close behind. 

“Time for another session.” A plush paw pats my face condescendly. God, how I hate it. So very much, with every bit of me. The Darkness in my skin hums in agreement. 

Maybe it’s the growing Darkness that pushes me to it.

Maybe it’s my utter disgust with myself.

Maybe, just maybe, I can’t bear to let it win. 

All I know is that I  _ snap. _

Headbutt that stupid stuffed animal. A moment of complete and utter shock buys me time to stand, to snatch up the shards in process. Hidden in my palms, wrapped up by my fingers. 

And  _ punt the little monster across the cavern.  _

The Darkling stares at me. I stare at it. Again, I can’t help but realize anew how  _ small  _ it is. A child, once. It doesn’t deserve this. 

The next moment, it’s gone. Vanished into mist, swallowed by the beast behind it. A bigger, more  _ monstrous  _ Nightmare Chirithy. A smaller version of the boss battle one. 

It moves.

Traps me against the ground, snarls at me. Breath stinks of rotting things. 

The Nightmare laughs in my face. “You can’t hurt me. Why even try?”

“Fuck you,” I snarl and stab my shards into that dark paw pinning me down. 

It  _ shrieks  _ and I stab some more deeper. Tearing, shredding. Green blood splatters across the crystal, bubbling and buzzing like a shook-up Mountain Dew. 

The shards glow and gleam. Buzz words I cannot understand. 

_ Worthy-worthy-worthy.  _

_ We-are-with-you. _

The other paw, claws around my neck. 

I hiss and kick, my free hand spasming. Where’s my other shards, where’s my-

Tight. Choking. 

My neck goes-

_ Snap.  _

* * *

Toxicity, first among Nightmares, the Nightmare Chirithy, catches the corpse’s former Heart before it sinks into the Dark Depths, the Void where all Hearts go. 

Glimmers, worn and torn at the edges. 

The meat is worth nothing. The Soul, the  _ Heart _ ...much more valuable. 

Dreams linger on in the flesh, though. Enough supplied for them to make a new Dream Eater, alongside the crushed Heart and Soul. 

Toxicity cuts the dreams out, pulls them together in a swirl. Pressure and heat and gravity...everything that takes to make a star can make a Dream Eater. 

A much easier servant than a rebellious human who  _ tries to fight back.  _

Shouldn’t have lost their temper, but then, it will be better this way. 

_ On that fated land, a great war shall transpire. Darkness will prevail and light expire. _

Toxicity considers the words once more. The future foretold, the last lines of a book they never got to read. But another did, and that ‘another’ fell to the Dark. 

Eventually making its way into  _ their  _ paws. 

The Darkness prevail...what an excellent ending. A path of being  _ truly  _ free, once and for all, no more chains, no more Light keeping them trapped. 

Yet. 

According to the seer, that fate does not, in fact, transpire. Where Darkness should have won, Light burns its way through and prophecy shall be overturned. 

Thanks to a boy named...

“Sora.”

A Hero among Heroes, an important core of this Kingdom Hearts story. The future. 

“If prophecy can be changed in ways such as that...” Toxicity muses, claws squishing the materia together. Fusing it into a solid chunk, a possible  _ core.  _

“What is to prevent me from shaping it myself?”

Break the binding chains again. This time, let it be  _ Fate  _ that shatters. 

The Darkness  _ will  _ win, but it will not be the petty Darkness of this  _ Xehanort.  _ No, it will be the real thing, unleashed and  _ free.  _

Destroying and devouring the Realm of Light  _ forever.  _

The core...

Red eyes examine it carefully, ears checking its tune. Purple and orange and spiky, a tune that bounces back and forth at a high pitch. 

“Wild.” Not exactly...unfortunate, but other core types would have served better. 

Rebellious, the way it holds onto pieces like ‘ _ girl’  _ or  _ ‘sister.’  _ Truly ridiculous, what do things like that matter? Too intertwined to take out, however, and breaking the core apart risks losing the precious memories that serve as a guide for shattering Fate. 

The Wild core will have to do. 

All it takes to create a Dream Eater is the materia of dreams and intent. 

Darkness gathers, as Toxicity weaves it about the core. Forming limbs, eyes,  _ life.  _

Human-shaped. Unsurprising, with how many of the past memories Toxicity was forced to have linger in the core. It would be odder if the new Dream Eater didn’t mimic a human. 

It fits perfectly around the bones of the new corpse. Good. 

Put in some survival instinct as well, so the thing won’t kill itself this time. Live at cost of everything else, but serve. 

Red eyes blink open. If Toxicity were poetic, they would say something like the red of a sunset. But they’re not. So they don’t. 

“Hello, little seer,” they purr, “Are you ready to change the story?”

(The Nightmare Chirithy has never made another Dream Eater before. Has never truly created before.)

(So this is what they do not know.)

(That, at the moment of creation, for the most complicated Dream Eater, the Dream Eater  _ knows.  _ Knows the thoughts, the feelings of its creator at that moment.)

(What it is meant for.)

(Such is why so many Chirithys stayed in connection to their human, in the beginning. They felt that  _ goal,  _ that  _ hope,  _ their Master put in them, to stay. It must be!)

( _ “They’re here to help, so play nice!” _ )

(So.)

(I remember.)

(I  _ see  _ you, Toxicity.)

* * *

I am a shadow on the wall. A Dream Eater, created out of a Wild Fantasy. Wrapped around the bones of the dead. Familiar bones. 

I hold the memories of the past and future in me. Of possibilities. 

I think I am not  _ purely  _ a Nightmare. Unless Nightmares want  _ want _ never to be alone, to eat the Heart of another whole, to keep it safely nestled to your own. 

I am hungry. I am also lonely. 

These things are the same, until they are not. 

I used to talk to the Darklings, listen to them hum in the way all living things (and some dead things) do. Not alone, then. 

But then Toxicity, my Maker, took them away. 

...I think I tried to eat one. I do not remember. Hunger and loneliness is the same until they aren’t.

My mouth is gone, now, so I do not think I can eat anymore too. 

I exist to hold memories. To be a tool to reshape all the worlds. 

One day, I see a product of that reshaping. 

A young girl, from above. Snatched from her time. 

She should be dead. But she is not. But everyone thinks she is. She is gone. 

The best kind of tool, Toxicity would say. One with no outside connections. 

Like me. 

Her hair is...orange. Color is odd, here. Sound and song does so much more. She is orange and white and black, laying facedown. Like she’s dead. But she’s not. 

I am so much bigger than her. I do not know what that matters, why I stay. Only that I do. Stay, that is. 

I do not know the girl’s name. A thrum in my chest tells me that I  _ should.  _

...Toxicity probably has that memory for today. 

_ Another name? Another?  _ I inquire.

The girl’s Heart answers, exhausted.  _ Yes, please. Alone.  _

Alone. Oh. I know alone. 

I do not have names anymore, only...one name, buried deep. 

It’s mine. But. I’ll share it. 

(Not alone.)

_ Ema, Ema, is that a good one?  _ I impress. There are so many words with that name, words like ‘argue,’ ‘craft,’ and ‘sister.’

_ Sister.  _ The Heart seems to like that one. Holds it tight.  _ Sister. Ema, sister.  _

Ema. The girl is now Ema. Until she finds her own name again. I...like that. 

I sit down, with my bony legs clacking. Shift out a hand to pull through the tangles of long hair. Her head is so small, against the palm of that hand. 

Hum a song. Who knows from where, it’s just...there. 

_ ~I’ve been looking for somebody. _

She’s soft. Warm. Not alone. 

_ ~To tell me that I’m real.  _

* * *

With Ema nearly ready to go out, after the old World has fallen into many small ones, us safe in our pocket of unreality, there’s a plan. 

A plan for me to follow. 

I follow. It is what the Maker wants. 

“Act quickly.”

Claws in my core, it  _ hurts.  _ Please,  _ it hurts.  _ Bones breaking,  _ shattering.  _

_ Snap.  _

I wake up. 

I don’t wake up. 

I’m dead, stuck in water everywhere. Water water water. 

The Final World. 

I’m dead now. Or pretty close to.

“Toxicity...” I breathe into the water, that drowns me and fills me with air at the same time. “You’ve made a mistake.”

Because the dead remember what the living do not. 

My heavily limited reason is back, reclaimed. I can  _ think  _ again, beyond the simplest of platitudes. 

I know what I am now, claiming the memories locked away, and that information gives the power to change  _ everything.  _

I claw my fingers into the depths. I cannot get up, stand up. 

I am bait. 

The perfect bait, for a boy who cares too much and whose Heart is a little too full. For Sora, at a pivotal time, when everyone dies. When the Keyblade Graveyard eats them up like it has done to some many others. 

He will pick me up and I will eat him alive. I will replace him and fail his mission, and my failure will allow Darkness to take its hold. 

I...am not going to do that. No matter what. 

But. 

Perhaps I never had to worry in the first place. Because this World is a World of reflections and too often are we drawn to our own. 

Or something similar enough. 

Someone made to replace another, someone made only to be a tool that dies shortly after they are first made. Someone full of Darkness, lingering in the Dark. 

Who else in Kingdom Hearts has a story like that? Like mine?

(C’mon. You can guess.)

A hand, a gloved hand breaks through the water, thrusts itself next to mine. 

Toxicity’s plan, it relies on kindness. It  _ takes advantage of  _ kindness. But...it counts on the wrong person. It counts on the idea that only one person, in all the worlds, could be kind. 

But. 

There is a hand. It is clearly not Sora’s hand. 

I take it. 

I tower over the small boy who has pulled me free. He looks so... _ young.  _

I am shadow and ember and smoke. He is flesh, but a fading flesh. A body, held under one arm, as he looks me over with neon bright eyes. 

Too tired to be afraid. 

I have a mouth again. I use it for, “Thank you. You...saved me.”

Words are hard, new again. I keep stuttering, hesitating at bad moments. 

An exhausted smile quirks on that face. The face of someone I never really...he’s real. “You’re welcome.”

If this  _ is  _ the time frame Sora would have shown up around, then this is...

“You’re...Riku Replica?” I try. 

Fear, again. Makes him solid, almost a statue. “How do you know that?”

I wrap my arms around myself. My chest aches at such fear. He deserves better, than this, than me. A haunting. 

An answer, if I can provide one. I try. “I...I don’t, from before. I think.” Memories are fuzzy. “Does it matter? You helped me. Can I help you?”

A kindness for a kindness. I sang to a girl once, a girl that is now Ema, before I remembered what kindness even was. I can do better this time. 

_ Please  _ let me do better. 

“How could you help me?”

How could I?

“I can...make a deal.” More of instinct, the answer, than something consciously chosen. “What do you want? I can try to see if I can do something about it.”

His answer, it’s not a surprise. Not with what I know he’s already given up, to be here. To be a ghost, dying by inches. 

“I want to protect Naminé.”

Of course. What else would it be? 

I nod, an acknowledgement. Here...I cannot do that, though. I want to help, but how? He’s dead.  _ I’m  _ dead. 

“I...I can help with that. But...I need a way back to the world, to do that much.” 

Need to be alive again. I  _ want  _ it with all of the puny core in my chest, burning with it. 

“Can you go in this?”

The Riku Replica lifts up the body under his arm, allowing me to see it better. It’s...another Riku. Looks exactly the same as the individual who holds it, but blank. A puppet, waiting for its strings to be tugged into motion. 

What? Oh...maybe that would work, if it’s what I think it is. 

“What? But that’s...that’s you from the past, isn’t it?”

I want a body so bad my non-existent teeth ache with the desire for it. A physical one that will not dissolve should a certain someone breathe too hard in my direction. 

Still. I hesitate. 

So many have taken advantage of him. I do not want to be another, not after what happened to make me. I will tell him all the facts, here. All I can. 

“If I take it...it’s be  _ me,  _ not  _ you.” _ Wave my hands very seriously in emphasis. 

“Yes, that’s what I want.”

“Well, if you’re  _ sure...” _

I am a Dream Eater. I operate the rest by instinct, grabbing that tender Heart offered to me, its gentle connection...pull us both down. 

Down deep. Down a Dive. 

Surprisingly, the Dive doesn’t go to Riku Replica’s Heart. Or mine, whatever the poor shattered thing may look like. 

Black and white glass, chains within chains. Surrounding a glass Dream Eater symbol, and a table. A meeting place, for the two of us to further bind our connection together. 

Four bowls of treats. Treats I recognize from Dream Drop Distance, I think. Instinct mutters again, names for each.  _ Warrior, Guardian, Mage, Caster.  _

Four choices, instead of the Keyblade’s usual three. 

I wait. 

He does not take long to arrive, looking so  _ small.  _ Confused. 

“That’s the Dream Eater symbol,” I attempt explaining. 

“That doesn’t explain anything to me since I don’t know what that is.” Ah, good point! I feel dumb, shifting my seating slightly in response. Need a better explanation then. 

I tap my chin. “Ah, true. A Dream Eater...is born of a strong Darkness, from Dreams. Created to protect an individual from Nightmares. Which would be me protecting Naminé, in this case.”

But I want to protect him instead. I don’t know Naminé. I guess I don’t really know Riku Replica, only that...

Orange hair, yellow eyes. I failed to protect her. I will do better this time. 

“You were someone else before a Dream Eater.” Man, he’s smart. States that conclusion as if it were fact, and he’s right, that’s the thing. 

“Ah...” My eyes itch. I frown. “Those memories...a lot of them were taken away, to become what I am now. I don’t even have a name...”

Why am I telling him this? It shouldn’t matter. But there’s a softness to those teal eyes watching me, taking me in. A kindness I don’t deserve, after the gate my memories opened up. 

“Ah. I see.”

He does. Too well, sizzling right through me. 

“You do, don’t you? Yes, I...know that. Know that much.” Flashes of a game, of a past that passed for him. I shouldn’t know it, but I do. Why I am ‘seer’ and trapped. 

I clap my hands together, more of a distraction than anything else. No need to linger on those thoughts, those Dark thoughts. 

“Enough of that! Time to pick what Dream Eater I’ll be.”

I let him pick. It’s least he deserves, this kid who’s only choice has been to sacrifice himself for other people. I  _ hate  _ that. I chose to stay, to give a name. 

I choose to stay now, to give a choice. The least I can do, my chest burning. 

I’m not... _ kind.  _ But. I want to be. Does it matter?

He picks up a shield cookie. Oh, okay. Guardian it is!

I pick up a chunk of my own. “Since I’m gonna be protecting someone...”

Take a bite. Ugh! Tastes not sweet like expected, but of regret and ash and blood in my mouth as my double stabs me through...

“Mshield cookie it is!”

Something hums, a click of a puzzle piece fit into place. My song changes and his does too. Connected. My Bond. Not Naminé, though he might Bond to her in turn. But he...he is Mine. 

Connected but not set in stone. Not yet. 

My core on the table. Will I take the last step? Will I trust my everything to him?

I...I don’t want to die.

I don’t want him to die either. He saved me, shouldn’t I save him?

Why do I want this so bad? 

Is it because...I am a Dream Eater?

(I am hungry. I am alone. They are the same, until they are not.)

“What is it?”

A lie, but also a truth. I force a smile on my face, as I hold out my core. It burns. “This? This is your Wild Fantasy, your Dream. For what is more Wild than wanting to change the future, Fate itself?”

It’s what Toxicity wants. It is what Riku Replica wants. But...do I want it?

Yes, I decide. Yes, I do. I wouldn’t exist and I want to, with all my might. 

Here. 

Take me. 

“What do I do with it?” He holds it carefully. Though he doesn’t know...Riku Replica cradles it like the Heart it is. My Heart, my everything. 

“Swallow it...” I look him in the eyes. Meeting them head on. “If you agree.”

“So...your past for my future. Are we in agreement.”

A breath. A stolen infinity, as much as stars, as much as worlds. 

“Yes.”

Riku Replica swallows my Core, my Heart, whole. 

Everything is the same but different. Our surroundings are gone, stained glass layered on top of each other. Siamese twins, in Soul. 

I am him, he is me, but  _ not.  _

We are connected and we are Bond. I am his Spirit, his Dream Eater, forever. 

Until death do us part. 

I should let Riku Replica go. I take him with me instead, spirling further back through time. To where he began. Where I will begin again. 

We will hide each other, him and I. From the Nightmare that will surely be on my tail once they realize what I have done. I will hide everything and will not be found. 

The memories of this, of the Darkness before, will be murky. Riku Replica’s Heart under mine will muddy it further.

I don’t mind. I will remember eventually, but until then, I will change the World. I will not break it to Toxicity’s vision, but if I can save at least one...if I can  _ live... _

Then I will. 

We are supposed to die, the two of us. 

Together, though, we will  _ live.  _

_ Good luck, with the ruse.  _

(I hold him, a small black bird in my hands. His Heart beats wildly in my grip.)

(I let him go. He stays. I stay. Small and delicate, together.)

(Why does the caged bird sing? Why do I sing, why does he stay?)

_ Hope.  _

* * *

The first thing I become aware of is a loud sucking noise in my ears. Someone trying to unclog the toilet again, in the bathroom next door?

Please, don’t let the toilet of hell be all stuffed up again. I’ve suffered enough. I don’t want to be the one to unclog it.

But...I’m probably going to have to do it. Ugh. My bed’s so warm and wet, I don’t want to g-warm and  _ wet _ ? Huh?

I wake with a breath stuck in my throat. I choke it out, until my entire body’s shaking under the force of it. 

(I  _ remember.) _


	52. Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the death in question has already happened, and is possibly a metaphor? Our Hero seeks escape, Axel seeks answers, and 'Ema' seeks revenge.  
> Oh, a mysterious figure in a coat saying mysterious things? Wonder who that could be...

I just might fall apart. Feel like glass about to shatter. 

Claws on my shoulder, digging in straight through my Dark Suit. Flesh burns with unnatural chill. 

“Now you see...your purpose.”

My purpose? To  _ puppet a kid  _ for a  _ Nightmare?  _ Bring everlasting Darkness in a way Xehanot would object to (if only because it wouldn’t be under his control)?

“No way.” A whisper. 

Ears twitch, brushing against my face. “What was that?” Waiting for me to take it back. 

I’ve run before. But that...didn’t get me away. 

I’ve died before. I know the stakes, the woman whose corpse birthed  _ me.  _ Know if I take my words back, Toxicity will rip my mind apart and make me  _ grateful for it.  _

They’ve done it before. They’ll do it again. 

Made me from a corpse, made me  _ believe  _ they were the best thing ever. Lies. 

I...I will only  _ live  _ if I submit. 

Now. That’s not enough. I will live but it will not be like this. Not a  _ pet.  _

“No. Way. You heard me.”

Shrug off the claw, stand tall. Stand firm. Face my Nightmare. 

The Nightmare sneers. “You really think that’s enough? Let me tell you the truth, my pet...you never escaped me. In fact...”

A baring of sharp teeth in a large mouth. “I’m already there.”

A shift of shadow. I blink and Toxicity is...gone. 

My Heart  _ lurches.  _ My hand on it, feeling it. Shit. Beans. 

They must be in  _ there.  _ Planning on tearing me apart from the inside out, hitting the source. 

_ I’m here.  _

Rook. I breathe out. He’s there, don’t forget. Is he enough?

Yes. He has to be. I’ll trust him. I’ll get us out of here. 

Need to find a way out, even if my memories inform me there’s no such thing. 

Maybe something’s changed, need to figure it out before Toxicity returns. 

Stumble along, hand on the wall. Don’t fall, don’t fall, if I fall, I will never get up again. 

My eye catches...an alcove. Something’s there, grey. 

Stumble over. See what’s there. 

A grey cloth in the cover. As I squat down next to it, my eyes take more details. Not dyed grey, the grey of a dirty white worn down to nearly nothing. 

Reach out, carefully lift it. Might dissolve, if I put too much pressure. 

Underneath...yellowish shards. Hm? 

I pick one up. Nearly drop it, as my eyes catch on...a skull. The shattered remains of a skull, empty sockets staring at me. 

“Holy fuck.”

Then this is, these are...bones.  _ My  _ bones, most likely. 

My hand shakes.  _ Everything  _ shakes. But I don’t drop the shard. 

Someone...preserved them. Hid them, even. But why?

Who would care about the bones of a dead tool?

On the wall of the alcove, looking away from the bones, there are small...scratches. The fingers of my free hand reach out, rub at them. The shape of...a flower. 

A small crude flower, overlooking this shoddy attempted grave. A marker, that someone cared after I...died. Or after Harper died. Enough to mourn. 

“I’m sorry,” I tell the marker, “Sorry that I left you behind, whoever you are.”

I can guess, actually, who it may be. ‘Ema.’

Around the bone shard, my fingers tighten their grip. 

A shiver. 

The bones...the shard sinks into my Dark Suit. The bones shimmer away, into a glow that gathers at my hands. I watch, with disbelieving eyes, as the glow shapes itself into...gloves. Fighting gloves, ridged with white boney plates. 

Layered mostly about my knuckles, a creepier ‘brass knuckles’ as it were. 

I grip my hands into fists, long claws at the ends nearly tearing into my Dark Suited palms. Long. Piano fingers. 

_ Kick some butt for me, okay? Make an impact. Change the World.  _

A shaky breath. In and out. “Okay,” I say out loud. “Okay.”

Dead End. That’s their name, the gloves’ name. Dead End. 

Tuck my fingers into proper punching fists, no breaking fingers now.

I test them out by punching the floor.  _ Smash!  _ A large crack appears in the crystal.

“Oh?” I hold Dead End up to my face, grinning. 

The sounds of the rushing water increase. Now, if I’m surrounded by water right now...I’ll probably drown myself, actually, if I break through the floor. 

But what if I can swim out? Swim away before Rook’s distraction runs its course and Toxicity returns?

Yeah...make a hole, big enough to fit through. 

Then. Get out. Swim out. Escape. 

“I can work with this.”

* * *

“Where is my pet? You should not be here for it,” the attacking Nightmare hisses. 

Rook knows who the Nightmare was expecting to see here. 

He isn’t going to let that happen. Now that he  _ understands  _ how exactly he found Ruse in that water, a lifetime ago. 

How  _ wrong  _ it was. Is. 

She’s protected Namine and him. Ruse has been trying to hide from a monster that will destroy everything that Rook’s ever cared about, destroy all the Worlds that are. 

Now that the monster has found her...

He’ll stand in the way. Swap for her place.

He’s already been standing in the way, but now Rook  _ really  _ knows the stakes. 

Can’t afford to lose. 

...How can he avoid that, when all he’s done is lose?

No. He won’t. He’s something  _ more  _ now, better. 

Rook grins, teeth and fang and glow eyes. Holds his hand out for Soul Eater. For his weapon. His feathered cloak rustles, shifts at his back. 

They stand on stained glass, facing each other. Rook’s body faces Ruse’s on that glass, red and black to her blue and pink with a brilliant white background. 

Though Ruse may be above, they stand together. Not alone. 

Toxicity is dismissive. Of course they are. 

“One lone Replica, a  _ ghost  _ of one. What can you do?” They spread their long red claws, their spiny wings. Overshadowing Rook with height and might. 

“If I’m alone...are you too?”

The Nightmare snorts. “Of course I am. And that’s all I need, to devour you,  _ insect. _ ”

Rook’s grin grows wider. 

“Ok, understood.”

Call for a weapon, but there’s one already drifting through the Dark, that answers his call. 

A Keyblade, white and black. 

Master’s Defender. 

His cloak stretches out, becoming...wings. Large feathered wings. Spirit wings of red and black, shedding feathers that burn and hiss against Toxicity’s flesh. 

Rook  _ strikes.  _

* * *

The worlds kept getting more and more complicated, much to Axel’s remembered dismay. 

Nobodies and Heartless, apparently that wasn’t enough for the wide-universe. 

No, there needed to be  _ special  _ Nobodies. Breaking the rules by existing. 

If Axel was an actual scientist, he’s sure he would be able to fake excitement all over that. But he’s not, so. It’s...frustrating. Kind of. 

Looks like Kairi’s got a Keyblade now too. The flowers remind him...of home. A home he lost years ago, with his Heart. A Keyblade pointed at him. 

Axel pushes the ickiness in his gut away and tries for a smile. More of a grimace, really, but shit, he’s bad at this kind of stuff. 

He raises his hands. “Hey, look, I’m not here to fight you.”

“What are you here for, then?” Namine asks, wary. But much more forward than Axel remembers her being. Is that a plus? Maybe?

She’s also wearing different clothes. A lot’s changed, apparently. 

“Just...missions. Fighting Heartless.” Looking for people who may or may not exist...but hey, Namine’s here. Namine who messes with memories. 

Should he ask?

...Won’t hurt.

“Hey, do you know a girl with black hair, kinda purple eyes?”

Kairi and Namine exchange a glance. Oh, they  _ know  _ something. 

Axel narrows his eyes. 

“Why are you asking?” Namine says in reply. One hand reaches down to tap at her waist.

“I’m looking for her.”

“For the Organization?”

Important. There’s a right answer here. 

“No. I’ve just...” He hesitates. This is ridiculous, Nobodies don’t Dream. But if he tells them, who will they tell?

“Been having these dreams lately. She’s in them.”

Another exchanged look. 

“...We can help,” Kairi eventually says. Hesitant, Keyblade still pointed at him. 

“Mind pointing that somewhere else?”

“Yes.” The Keyblade’s point stays fixated at his chest. 

Okay then. 

“So. What are we doing?”

“We’ll wait for her to show up,” Namine decides. She looks to Kairi, who nods in agreement. 

“That’s a good idea.”

“Who is she?” The Princess, the castle one without a Keyblades, pips up. 

Oops. If Axel could scratch at his head without it being mistaken for an attack, he would do it. Forgot she was there, that’s a mistake he can’t be making. 

“Xion,” Kairi answers. Namine hisses, glaring at Axel. 

Xion.  _ Xion.  _

Axel  _ knows _ , somewhere deep inside, the name is familiar. To his shame...he’s forgotten it? He can’t have, he gets everything memorized!

But.

Black hair, purple eyes. She smiles. Eating ice cream with him and Roxas. A third. 

That’s all. Nothing more, nothing less. 

A tug in his gut, his chest. He  _ needs  _ more.  _ Needs  _ this Xion. 

Get Xion back, whoever they may be?

Could be a bad plan...but something inside Axel is all for it. 

“Let’s figure this out.”

* * *

The Mysterious Figure and Ema fight, a clash of blue light against black steel. They look like they might lift off the ground any second now, both so very light on their feet, their footwork a dance. 

A killing dance. Blood in the Dark. 

“We have to get Aqua out of here!”

Aqua is...turning purple? Or is it black? It’s bad whatever it is. She’s shaking, eyes turning back into her head. 

_ Dark...get her out! _

Rikku tugs on Riku’s sleeve. “A portal, a portal! Now!”

He focuses and tears a hole through. Hollow Bastion, that should be good enough, right? “Mickey! Get everyone through!”

The Mouse King nods, face serious. He supports Aqua the best he can with his short height. “Got it!”

He rushes through with her body, fairies on his tail. 

Riku turns to Sora, Donald, and Goofy. The two Disnians are keeping Sora out of the fight, examining the Darkness that replaces his hand. 

Riku jerks his head towards the Corridor. “You need to go!”

Sora meets his unseen eyes, gaze alight with a stubborn fire. “No way! I’m not leaving you in the Dark ever again!”

“Sora...” Riku tries. 

Sora summons his Keyblade. “We’re fighting together, Riku! Because we’re friends!”

Riku’s never been able to convince Sora to do anything once his friend sets his mind to something. His Heart squeezes. “Fine. But be careful!”

That Darkness on Sora’s hand...might get worse. Would have gotten worse if not for the Figure’s quick thinking. Who are they anyway? An enemy? A friend?

“We’ll be right here!” Donald announces. 

“Ready to help,” Goofy contributes. 

“Got it! Watch our backs!” Sora orders, leaping forward. Riku follows behind, smiling under his hood. Always the same, isn’t it?

Riku...missed this. Being with Sora. Fighting with him...that’s be even better. 

Yellow eyes in that white hood go  _ wide  _ as Sora comes forward to join the fight. 

“You! You took her away!” Ema  _ howls.  _

Sora blinks. “What? I didn’t do anything!”

“Not  _ yet.”  _ The scythe twists. Riku throws himself into Sora and they’re both on the ground, narrowly missing the attempted beheading. 

Her attacks are wilder, less focused. Trying to get to Sora but the Figure won’t let her. 

Riku won’t either. 

“Guardian!” The Heartless comes at his call, erupting from the ground to grab at the scythe’s handle. Its strength is much more than that of a smaller girl, lifting her off the ground. 

The Mysterious Figure doesn’t hesitate, even at the sight of a Heartless entering the fray. They go for a head on attack of the now vulnerable Ema. 

Something twists. Something invisible, a feeling more than anything else. 

The Figure, instead of hitting, is knocked back. The Guardian howls, shivers, and breaks away into motes of Darkness. 

“What?” 

Still there, Riku can feel it like a breath on the back of his neck. But unable to fight. 

The scythe comes down. He can’t stop it, the Figure can’t either, still sitting up with a groan. 

_ Clash.  _

“Not today!” Goofy catches the blade with his shield. Donald and Goofy stand in the way, between them. Defending. 

Something stings at Riku’s eyes. He’s not crying, he can’t be. 

Ema backs off. Her hood fallen, she sneers. She’s a...pretty girl, with long orange hair tied back in a ponytail. Her eyes are the yellow of dandelions. 

There’s a mark on her cheek. A squiggly heart symbol like the Heartless one but not.

“Nightmare,” the Figure breathes. 

Ema shakes her head. “Just the cause, I’m  _ more  _ than that.”

“Back off!” Donald raises his staff, electricity zapping on the end. “Or I’ll Thunder you!”

Scythe comes up. “I think-”

She freezes. 

What?

“The bones,” Ema breathes. “No, don’t take them!” 

Another invisible twisting. She’s gone. Gone for good? Riku looks around. Nothing. Just...them. 

The Mysterious Figure stands and pats invisible dust off his legs. 

“...this was a trap. Through and through. I need to find her.”

Just like that, he’s done too. But less invisibly, with a Corridor. 

“Riku...” Sora breathes in Riku’s ear. It itches. 

“Yes?”

“Do you know what’s going on?”

As much as Riku hates to admit it...

“I wish.”

* * *

Punch. Punch. Punchpunchpunch. 

The crystal breaks apart under my hits. Closer and closer to creating a hole all the way through, I hope. 

The rushing waters get louder. Closer. 

My heart rushes its beating in response. I can’t wait, need out!

_ Crack.  _ Finally! A hole! Make it bigger, make it bigger!

My chest revolts. I gag. A thrust from my Heart. 

Poot. Poot. Poot. A cluster of Darklings out of nowhere, whack against the wall. Poot. Last appearance, Toxicity. 

In its plush kitty form. 

The Nightmare stands, red eyes looking dazed...

_ Nice.  _ Good job, Rook! Not dead, but close enough for what I need. 

“...You won’t get away.” They point a paw at me. 

I raise an eyebrow. “Sure.” One last hit-!

“Darkli-” C’mon, c’mon!

The hole is a jagged mess, big enough to slip through. Dark waters roar below, by a couple feet, I think? Better than flooding the caves. Perfect and just in time!

“This is the day you  _ almost  _ caught Ruse, Replica Extraordinaire!” I announce. 

Drop through the hole to Toxicity’s answering howl. 

Darkness eats me alive. 

Hate, rage, fear, disgust...name any negative emotion and I’m being swarmed by it. Nearly swallowed up in a flood. The current is fast and threatens to tear me apart. 

I struggle to  _ exist.  _

Can’t breath, even existing is hard. Hold on, hold on-!

About to-

Something grabs me by the collar and drags me out. 

I’m on a boat. Black wood. Coughing and coughing, can breathe now!

A hand rubs my back as I cough out Dark bile. Withdraws after the last bit comes out. 

Once that’s done, I squint at my savior. 

A person, in one of those Organization coats. I can’t really tell, because they’re sitting and the boat seating is weird, but I think they’re taller than me? Like everyone else I’ve run into, boo. 

There’s an oar, propped up against the head of the boat behind them. A taller head, I don’t know the name for it, like a Venice ferry. The ferry of the underworld. 

“A ferry and a cloaked mystery person, after my near death experience? Don’t you think that’s a  _ little  _ on the nose?” I mean, it could be an actual  _ death  _ experience, with that symbolism in mind. 

The figure shrugs. “I mean, this is a world where the big hero-types carry around a key for opening both physical and metaphorical doors. Symbolism is big here.”

Well. Guess that’s true enough. 

“Am I dead?” I consider. I don’t want to be, but everything is very numb right now. Can’t bring myself to care if I am or not. Not really. 

My body shakes. Shivers. 

The figure reaches out to pat me on the shoulder reassuringly. “Nah. You’ve got some life left in you yet.” Their voice is rough. Raspy. Unfamiliar. 

Like no one I’ve ever heard before. Not in the games, not in any movies...nowhere. 

A complete stranger. 

Or maybe not, considering the body jumping that’s happened before...

“Are you Luxu?” A dumb thing to ask, but I’m at this guy’s mercy anyway. If they want me dead, asking dumb questions or not, I’m dead. But they pulled me out, so I don’t think that’s what’s going on here. 

“Huh. Wouldn’t that be something?” The figure stands up (they  _ are  _ taller), picking up their oar to start moving the boat. 

Not really an answer. 

We skim over the black waters. So very calm, an ocean unlike any I’ve ever seen. Who knows what lurks under its surface.

There’s a song down here, singing through the still waters. Sounds like Destati, but...slightly different? I don’t remember from where in Kingdom Hearts. 

“Trying to place it? It’s the sound of fallen worlds.”

Hm?

“The End of the World,” The figure further explains. “Listen with intent, and everything will tell you its name.”

“Everything has a name?” I frown. Like rocks and Darklings and stuff? Is this another version of Scan, maybe? Been a while since I properly used that...

“Always has.”

The oar withdraws from the water and eventually the ferry slows to stop. A perfect stop, which is impossible with usual water physics, but this isn’t usual, isn’t it?

The figure pulls out a small crystal from one of their pockets. A clear crystal orb labeled with a crude RG carved into it. 

They toss into the water, which bubbles around the gift in response. The next moment, a flash of light. Green light, steaming up towards a sky I cannot see. 

It’s...like those holes in the ground, in the endgame, that went to different worlds. From the first game. 

The figure hums. It sounds like rusty chainsaws. I wince. 

“What’s going on? Who are you?” I repeat. I want answers, c’mon!

“You know me better than you think.”

What? That’s-

A hand on my back again. “Freeze.” A flash of cold and I can’t move! Air trapped in my lungs, I’m frozen! What?!

A shove and I tilt over, in my frozen statue glory, into the light. 

“Send your friends my love.”

The sea swallows me whole. Gone. 

* * *

Ansem, Seeker of Darkness, breaks through the many currents of Darkness into open air. Relatively open air. 

Yet another unsuccessful search. Unfortunate.

In this void, it is easy enough to find the warmth of a single waiting Heart. Belonging to a cloaked individual sitting on a boat, poking an oar into the water. 

His partner for this excursion pulls her hood back. Silver hair is bundled under a pink and blue headcloth, with a mixture of painted markings and peeling dark wounds on her face. Peeling off into Darkness. 

A long clawmark of a scar stretches across her throat, bobbing as she swallows. A scar like someone tried to scoop out her voice. Unsuccessfully. 

Eyes as yellow as his own steadily meet his gaze. Unafraid of the power he bears, unlike so many other ‘vessels.’

The Replica nods at a pile of dazed Heartless off to the side. “Fished up some Heartless. Want one?”

Ansem eyes the mishmash of Water Cores and Shadows disdainfully. “If I need one, I will get my own.”

“Okay, suit yourself.” Ruse pokes her oar into the Dark waters. Paddling the boat along with brisk strokes. “Find what you’re looking for?”

“There are other places to search.” He settles onto the ferry, folding his arms across his chest. 

A rattle of a hum. “So that’s a no, then. Gotcha.”

One of the Shadows wiggles, making its way onto its feet. Without looking, Ruse reaches over and tears a chunk from the chest, the Heart area. Brings it to her mouth, long fangs glowing, as the rest of the Shadow fades into nothing. 

“...what was it like, talking to your younger self?” she rasps.

Ansem steeples his fingers. An odd question, to come up at such a time. But then, time is a flexible thing in the Realm of Darkness. He had been gone long enough for Ruse to have a possible encounter, considering...

“What was it like talking to yours?” he counters. 

The Replica pauses, tilts her head. Her tattered Heart pulses, as his Somebody’s Heart fragment forces it into motion. To beat. 

“I...do you regret? Setting who you were to become...yourself?” Ruse lays her oar flat across her lap. 

“Some paths must be taken.” Ansem says nothing about regret. How can he? He wouldn’t exist without that path set before a younger Xehanort. 

“Talking to her...it wasn’t talking to me. Not anymore.” A wry smile, showing fang. “I’ve changed too much.”

Ansem nods. “As have I.”

For a moment, the two sit there in silence. Allowing the current to take them away. 

(Does he regret?)

(It doesn’t matter. Fate binds them both.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Future!Ruse: Some of us just?? Mess with our younger selves?? To cope??  
> Ansem SOD: Heavily relatable. 
> 
> Also, Dead End's art!  
> https://beastenraged.tumblr.com/post/641032427630886912/upgradeable-unique-item-may-only-be-used-by


	53. Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the connections between specific Hearts is something that cannot be denied. A parent and child. Somebody and Nobody. Friends. Family. 
> 
> But most of all, the connections we choose ourselves? Upheld by Destiny, we cannot deny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Fantasy Medical/Surgery Procedures. Also, a slight connection to the chapter Unintended, to added upon in next chapter.

Even kneads at his forehead, fighting back his building headache. 

Wonderful, truly wonderful. 

_ Of course  _ Xehanort trapped all of the important files behind the MCP. Which now apparently hates all of humanity and won’t allow him access, isn’t that fantastic?

...he’ll need to bring the girls back in for this, won’t he?  _ Great.  _ Can’t even solve his own problems. 

Even tugs his dusty lab coat into place, turning away from the computer. He’ll have to figure it out another time. 

Perhaps it’s time to return to the lab...

A sound of something buzzing, on the edges of his hearing range. Even stands there for a moment, before he places it. Corridor. 

But who would come here? All of the former Apprentices...of those who are left, none of them would return here. Even certainly did not, as Vexen. 

Turn around the corner and...at the Safe Point...rolling out of it...

No.  _ No.  _

A very very  _ still  _ body. Looks different, in different colors for the Dark Suit, a headcloth matching those colors, but a familiar body. 

That of a Replica. 

Ruse. 

He rushes over at once. Is she...? No. Can’t be. 

Once his hands touch her...she moves again. Breathes.  _ Alive.  _ How she got here is less important making sure she  _ stays that way.  _

He stoops to check her pulse. Erratic. Unstable. 

She’s dying, her breaths shuddery. Even can’t let that happen. 

He picks her up in his arms. Her body is light, too light. His stride is quick as he makes his way to his labs. Labs that are still full of the necessary equipment, thank the tides that he as Vexen did not see fit to return for any of it. 

The table. Her body, right there, splayed out like one his past examinations. An examination that against all odds he  _ has  _ to keep alive this time. 

“I am a  _ scientist,  _ not a doctor,” Even complains. How ridiculous that he of all people would be forced to take on that role. Everyone who knows him would agree. 

Yet here he is. 

Attempting to prevent Ruse’s Heart from complete and utter collapse, to save her life. 

Gloves on, wouldn’t do to kill with infection, though he still doesn’t know how infection affects Replicas... 

A scalpel. Picked, cutting. The Dark Suit is tough, but not tough enough to stand up against the edge of a scalpel. A shirt underneath, that gets shredded. Peeling back fat and flesh and muscle for access to her mostly centered heart, ignore the scars (for now). Break the ribs with a tool specific for the purpose, Even’s done this before, for studies. Wrap a hand around the organ, just about stopped. Force it to beat again and again, squeezing. 

Not nearly fast enough to match a Replica’s usual hummingbird-pulse. Fast enough to keep her blood flowing, her brain functioning. To stay alive. 

Replicas are different from most living things, in that their physical heart and their spiritual Heart are one and the same. A mostly physical Core. 

Torn. Muscles almost shredded. 

Somehow, Even must repair it. 

He does not have enough hands to, while keeping it beating, this is what the other Apprentices were for-!

A gloved  _ familiar  _ hand on his shoulder.

“Apprentice,” his former Master’s voice rumbles, “What are you doing?”

“She’s dying, I can’t let that happen!” Even hisses back. Frees a bloody hand, to tug at that hand on his shoulder. Towards the heart, closes the fingers around it. 

“Squeeze it, keep it beating!”

Surprisingly, Ansem does without any further fuss. His orange eyes watch Even at his work, face still covered by his ridiculous disguise. 

Materia, materia, where is it? He doesn’t have any Dark materia, that came later, at the Castle That Never Was! Nothing here!

How can he fix her?

Ansem can’t keep her heart going forever, that’s just an emergency measure!

“...waaaate.”

Her head flops over, indigo eyes squinting at him. Slurring her words but impossibly awake. She shouldn’t be awake. 

“Ruse!” 

Her eyes close. “Ere.”

Dark materia appears on the table. Most likely from Ruse’s own inventory. High class, rare...exactly what Even needs to repair a Replica’s Heart. 

Grab the nearest chunk of, what is it, Wild, perhaps? Stretch it out, form it with a touch of his own Soul. 

Move Ansem’s fingers, do a quick patch-!

Enough to keep her alive, enough to buy Even time to do a complete reconstruction. 

Even stands back. “You no longer have to do...that,” he stiffly informs Ansem. 

Ansem removes his gloved hand, covered in green gore. Her heart continues to beat. Thankfully.  _ Wonderfully.  _

Even carefully pieces the ribs back into place, applies some spare Hi-Potion to heal them up more quickly. Normally he wouldn’t even dream of folding over fat and flash just yet, but Ruse’s healing has already started kicking in, if her heart picking up its pace is any indication. Can’t let it pump her own blood out of the body. 

Dissolvable stitches, so crooked, Braig was always better at that...

Apply what’s left of the Hi-Potion. 

Even sighs, shoulders slumping, and strips the bloody gloves off his hands. Disposes of them. So very green, so very different from the red and black he’s grown used to. 

A pale color, that might pass for red from a distance. 

Clean everything of blood. New gloves for that. 

Yes. He can do this. Focus on that task, and not on how scarred up Ruse is, the burn scars he never got to properly see before. Dark crumpled flesh that never fully recovered.

His own scars on his chest itch in sympathy. 

“Now, what were you here for?” Even narrows his eyes at Ansem. Whose washing his hands in the sink now, good. Good that he still recalls proper lab procedures. 

“...you know about the effects of Darkness on the human body in a way few others do.”

Yes, that’s true. But Even won’t let the man get off the hook so easily. 

“And you do not? Or are you a hypocrite unwilling to use your knowledge when I will?”

Ansem’s most likely gritting his teeth under his bandages. “...I require assistance with the party that has returned from the Realm of Darkness.”

Even blinks. “Who?”

“His Majesty, among others.”

“The Mouse King and who?” Why would he come here? Wasn’t the Keyblade wielder heavily anti-Dark...which would explain the required assistance, if something Dark had happened to them in the Realm of Darkness. 

Even sweeps Ruse’s body up in his arms and turns. “Where are they currently located?”

“Upstairs, in the main hall.” The  _ of course  _ is implied. Even ignores him to instead begin his journey upwards. 

Ruse is light, but not so light he should be carrying her as easily as he is. 

Perhaps a lingering strength increase from his time as a Nobody...

Movement. She’s huddling closer to him. Most likely searching for warmth, since her Dark Suit hasn’t reformed around her bare chest yet. 

Even readjusts his grip, allows her head to rest against his chest. Something he did for Ienzo, when he was much, much smaller than Ruse is currently. Only to keep him warm, of course. Sharing body heat is the most efficient method for warming another. 

She’s colder than she should be. He holds her tightly. 

In the hall, there’s the expected Mouse King, of course. Much less expected is a trio of Fey worriedly fluttering about a...

Well. 

Isn’t that a surprise?

A blue-haired woman wearing the same kind of armor that he saw ten years ago. On the boy  _ Ventus.  _ The one that Roxas looks like now.

They must be connected...but how? And after ten years?

She’s shaking.  _ Stinks  _ of Darkness, infected with it? There’s a tint of it to her cheeks. Eating away at her. 

“Put her to Sleep!” Won’t stop, but will slow it, give him more time. 

His Mickey pulls out his Keyblade and casts the spell right away. “Sleep!”

The woman slumps over. Out. Good. More time. 

The sound of Dark Corridor. Even looks over in time to catch four more individuals joining the other visitors. 

Sora, Donald, and Goofy. Again. And...Riku. Still looking like the Superior’s Heartless, judging by his current height. Hm. 

Sora smiles.When does he not? ...no, Even already knows the answer to that. In nastier memories. 

The boy’s eyes go bright at seeing who Even holds in his arms. 

“Oh, you found your daughter!”

Even nods stiffly. “I did.”

“Or son?” Goofy squints at Ruse’s exposed chest. Even glares back, turns her body so her front’s covered by his own. 

“Daughter,” he repeats. “Not son,  _ daughter.” _

“Okay,” Sora agrees. 

Goofy nods. “Like that, gotcha.”

A flash as Riku’s sword comes out. “ _ Vexen.” _

“It’s Even currently,” Even corrects. Hopefully he’ll avoid a fate as a Nobody once more in the future. 

“How are you back?”

“Very good question. I was recompleted and am no longer a Nobody.” Even pauses. Should he add anything else? Oh right. “I mean you and your friends no harm.”

“Wait, you were a  _ Nobody?  _ Riku, how do you know him?”

Riku turns on his friend, hands thrust upwards. The sword is gone, though. Good. 

“Sora, don’t y-” The hands drop. “Oh. Yeah. Never mind.” The boy turns towards Even again. 

Donald taps his beak. “What happens if we defeat the other Nobodies then? Will they come back too, as Somebodies?”

“I...have no idea. My circumstances...” Living as a ghost inside his own creation’s skull, giving apparently unwanted advice, “...were rather unique.”

He hopes so. There are...things he has to say to his companions. 

“You have Ruse.” About time Riku realized, his observation skills leave much to be desired.

Riku moves closer, reaches out to brush his fingers against Ruse’s arm. “You’re back,” he breathes. “Is she okay?”

“She will be.” It’s really a matter of professional pride, after the work he put in to keep her heart beating. “Now...” He crooks a finger at the Mouse King and the Fey. 

“If you could bring her, there’s a bed that she can take.”

To the infirmary. Where there should possibly be  _ some  _ supplies to use...

“You can help her?”

“He probably can,” Ansem says stiffly. An unexpected defense. It looks like Even really will have to do his best at this, not that he wouldn’t have. 

The man goes over to assist the Mouse King in lifting the sleeping woman’s body. Between the two of them, they manage it without waking her up. 

As for the Fey...the dark haired one in black announces, “We’ll be back when she’s better.”

“So get her fixed up!” The blond adds, almost a threat with how she flies in his face. 

“We’ll be where we took you before, Riku, if you need to find us.” The one in blue and white says civilly, nodding to the boy in question. 

The three flutter off. Vanish. 

Good, less distractions. 

Even turns to walk further down the hall. The others, of course, follow. 

The infirmary is in decent condition, considering how long it’s been. Nothing about the medical supplies. The beds are intact, which is an important first step. 

He lays Ruse down in the closest. Removes the sheet, shakes it out a bit, before wrapping her in it.

Good. She seems asleep, in real sleep, not in a coma.

His Majesty and his old Master struggle a bit with getting the woman, Aqua, into her own bed. They manage it eventually.

“Now, I will take a look at her...”

* * *

I wake up to long blond hair and green eyes in a narrow face. 

I  _ know  _ that face. Last time I saw that face-

(Burning, the smell of cooked meat.)

“Ahhh!”

I flail. Kick against the soft material I’ve been laying on, backpedal away from him. 

He’s back? Already? That shouldn’t have happened yet!

“That’s certainly a way to wake up,” someone I can’t see remarks in the background. Don’t really know the voice either, too busy dealing with a  _ living Vexen! _

Ahhhh!

“Get away from me!”

I lift up a foot, about ready to give him a boot to the face. My claws are gone, but I don’t need to bring them out. Not for this. 

Vexen gets the message at that point and hastily backpedals himself. His hands are up, weaponless. “I’m not here to hurt you!”

“...Are you sure you’re related?” Quacking. I’m pretty sure that’s what Donald said, and it's him speaking because who else could that be?

Wait, who’s in here? Where am I?

...where did I go, after the mystery person and the freezing?

Look around. Looks like...Hollow Bastion. Radiant Garden, can I say the name out loud now?

Open my mouth. “______.” Nope. Nothing. Okay, I can wait on that. Some more. 

Some sort of bed place? Not a lab. I’m laying in a bed and there’s someone else in a bed across the way that I can’t see. 

The people in here are...I count them, to myself. Sora, Riku (KH2 Riku, the Ansem-y one), Donald, Goofy, DiZ, the person in the bed, Mickey, and...

Of course, Vexen. 

“Ruse.” Vexen says my name and it feels funny, a twinge in my gut. But he’s using my name which I want, so I won’t argue with that. “Your Heart almost collapsed. I need to check it.”

Oh, so what Xehanort said about that came true, a collapse after leaving the Realm of Darkness. But it’s fixed now, apparently. 

Did he fix it? ...even if Vexen fixed it, I don’t want him to touch me. 

“Fine.” I gesture to DiZ. “He can do it.”

“ _ What?” _

DiZ raises an eyebrow, but does come over. He wraps a hand around my wrist, checking my pulse. 

I look over at Vexen, who seems to be steadily getting steamed up. See, I let him but not you, isn’t that just terrible?

It may be immature but...

I stick my tongue out at Vexen. 

So there. 

“Ill mannered-!” Vexen verbally flails in response. 

“Is this normal?” I catch Sora loudly whispering to Riku. 

Riku tilts his still hooded head. “...Seems about right. At least no one’s attacking each other.”

“Wait, what?”

DiZ sighs heavily. “It appears your manners have not gotten any better in your time away.”

I scoff. “Why would they? You guys are  _ jerks.” _

“That’s no excuse.” So not going to deny it?  _ Hah.  _ “You seem stable enough.”

DiZ lets go of my wrist and walks over to another bed. One with-

“Is that  _ Aqua?”  _ I blurt out, craning my neck to see. Nearly fall out of the bed in the process, only don’t because Vexen’s over here again, shoving me back in. 

“Hey!”

DiZ narrows orange eyes at me. “How do you know her?”

Oops. Messed up there.

“There was mentions of her at Castle Oblivion?” I try. 

“Hmm.” That didn’t sound like a believing sound.... “Why would there be?”

I blink. “Because it used to be the Land of Departure and she lived there?”

“ _ What?”  _ Mickey, this time. “How do you know that?”

Huh, right, people didn’t know that. Don’t know that? Whatever.

“It’s there in the Castle if you look for it. Or er, was there.” Guess it’s not around anymore, now is it? How are the Wayfinder trio going to get back their home now?

Stupid Organization. 

“Man, there’s a lot of stuff, isn’t there?” Sora says, almost philosophically as he looks up towards the ceiling direction. 

He holds up his hand, which is... _ Dark.  _ Like Anti-Form, trapped midway. But how?  _ What?  _ That shouldn’t happen. “My hand, whatever a Land Departure is, a Mysterious Figure...”

Oh.  _ Oh.  _ Hmmm. 

Should I say something? I can guess who this ‘Mysterious Figure’ is and seriously, Xehanort, you went around bugging these kids while I was getting chased by a ghost Vanitas and got my butt kicked by Terra? Lame. 

But he didn’t tell them his name. So...it would be rude if I did. Maybe I can just go ‘hey don’t go to the Realm of Dreams’ when the Mastery test comes up later?

Would that work?

“Did you run into them?” Riku asks. 

I hesitate. Too long. It’s clear I know something. What do I say?

“Well, I fought with a Mysterious Figure.” I rub my elbow in remembered pain. Man, that first team-up was a  _ dozy.  _ “Those light-swords of his  _ sting.” _

“So he’s a bad guy?” Sora looks confused. He lifts his flickering Darkened hand. “Then why would he stop this?”

Good question. Why  _ would  _ Xehanort stop Sora from going completely Dark, Anti-Form style? Maybe he still needs Sora as a vessel?

Not that I should probably say that...

I shrug. “Maybe he’s not bad all the time? Just some of the time?”

“This is getting complicated,” Donald decides. “Maybe we should just fight him anyway, good guy or not.”

“Yeah, we can apologize if we’re wrong,” Sora agrees. 

Ah, the tropes of common shounen anime. Good times. Something to be avoided, in this case. “Maybe you shouldn’t?” I suggest. “Just...be careful.”

“And there was this Ema too!” Sora adds into the conversation. 

I flinch at that. Can’t stop it. 

“Ruse?” Riku notices, of course. The movement is too big and jerky to hide. 

Vexen sweeps in again, an interrupting meddler. Almost like he’s trying to protect me from further questions, but why would he do that?

He’s  _ Vexen.  _ Even, probably, at this point. The furthest from kind you can get, in a Somebody. 

“Ruse, I do need to check you for any...further damages.”

That...

(Dark leather, gloved hands pulling me into the dark, pink liquid lapping at my knees.)

No. Not doing this. 

I pull the blanket over my head. “Enough talk, going to sleep now.”

“Ruse, you are not running from the conversation!”

“Sleeping, snoring, zzzzz.”

Surprisingly, Vexen does not press further. Instead I hear a heavy sigh. “Very well. But I will have to check your health later.” The movement of feet across the floor, presumably him moving away from me. 

I squash the burning curiosity to check. Even with my obvious ploy, I am kinda tired. 

A new voice. Deep. “Are you okay, Ruse?”

Oh, right, Riku. He’s here too. “Are you okay? You’re different from before?”

“...it could be worse.” Right. 

“I’m sure we’ll figure out how to fix it,” I say hopefully. Everything’s different now...but Ansem the Wise did it the first time, right? By accident, but since he seems to be sticking around, the chances are higher that the man might figure something out on purpose this time. 

Riku’ll be fine. He has to be, since I screwed him up in the first place. 

I curl up in the bed, pulling the covers tighter. 

I don’t want to talk anymore, suddenly. 

(Bones breaking, shattering. Crystal and Darkness. The tube is full of a thick stickiness and I can’t get out.)

(I can’t get out.)

* * *

Naminé’s chest hurts. She rubs at it, careful not to let Axel see.

He probably does anyway, he’s always been good at catching the small things in ways Larxene and Marluxia weren’t. 

At least the other Princess is gone now, having found her Beast. After Kairi gave him a stern talking to, of course, telling him to  _ talk with Belle.  _ They’re outside in the courtyard, Xion talking with the people she calls her friends, who can’t remember her for some reason. Roxas and Axel.

She...can’t stand him. Axel, she means. 

She doesn’t hate him. Does she? No, not when Xion is so eagerly talking to him right now, him and Roxas. 

(Naminé could have hated him, to see the devastation on her face, when Axel admitted, pulling his hand through his hair in his familiar gesture, he didn’t remember her.)

But she doesn’t hate him now. She’s not sure how to hate, because she’s pretty sure she doesn’t hate Marluxia or Larxene, as terrible as they were. Unless she does. 

But that’s later thoughts, to ask people with Hearts. Even if she’s one of those people now, maybe someone else will know more. 

Naminé taps her fingers at her Command Deck, carefully watching the trio interact. 

No, her animosity (a good word, that Kairi taught her earlier) comes from something else entirely. From the scars she sees all over Ruse’s face, whenever she sees her friend. For the story that she pulled out like teeth, slow and painful. 

Axel may have let her go, but only for his own purposes. Not before hurting Ruse first. 

For that, she can’t forgive him. Can’t look away, watching every move he makes with all the care she can muster. 

Watching him and Roxas and Xion’s  _ joy _

Her fingers itch to draw. To sketch out the happiness she sees on Xion’s face. Save it, for another time. 

“Naminé, why are you staring at him like that?” Kairi whispers. 

Oh. She noticed. Glancing over, Naminé notices her knuckles white around her Keyblade. Looks like she doesn’t trust him either. 

“He...” she hesitates over her words. What if he’s listening? Look over, the talking between the three is loud. Loud enough to cover. “He hurt someone I care about.”

Kairi’s face is compassionate. Kind. Everything that Naminé could never hope to match. A twinge of sourness in her chest, to push down with the rest. 

“The friend we’re looking for.”

Naminé barely breathes. “Yes.”

“Oh.” A breath back. “Was...she okay? After?”

Naminé looks down, twisting her fingers together. “Yes, but...”

He still hurt her. Still burnt her. Just because she lived doesn’t make it go away. 

“I can’t trust him.” Not like Xion can. 

“You don’t have to,” Kairi says firmly. “We’ll watch.”

She nods at Naminé, and with a lightened Heart like the weight is being lifted away, Naminé nods back. 

There’s something between them now, more than the fragile connection of Somebody and Nobody, a Princess and her shadow. 

Something that could be stronger. 

And, Naminé realizes to her surprise, she  _ wants  _ it to be stronger. 

Naminé doesn’t want to be friends with Axel. 

But Roxas...

She thinks she could manage that. 

Might  _ want  _ that. 

She smiles at him, when he looks over her way. Notices with a brightness in her, that his face turns red in response. He ducks his head. 

Oh, what could that mean? Ruse said something about blushing...

“Flirting?” Hm, what does that mean? 

Naminé nods to Roxas. “Go ahead.”

Kairi smiles and waves. The flush grows deeper. “Oh, this is fun!”

It is, isn’t it? 

Naminé’s Heart hums. She wants to...find Ruse. Do this with her. Introduce Kairi and Xion to her, and for the first time, the thought doesn’t fill her with dread. 

She can’t wait until they’re reunited. 

* * *

“You need to get out of here,” Vanille repeats. Serious for perhaps the first time Xehanort’s ever seen her. 

He doesn’t blink. Only Ruse can manage that, now. “What do you mean?”

Vanille pushes at his chest. 

Fang answers instead. “The Radiant Nightmare’s...gone.” She looks away. “Lost her bout and haven’t seen her...”

“Which means she  _ ate her, _ ” Vanille whispers harshly. Shoves again. “You need to get out before she does the same to  _ you.” _

Ruse, eaten? Impossible. 

She hasn’t met him for the first time yet, as far as he could tell. Time has not run its course. 

So she must have escaped somehow, after losing. But how? The answer...would be beneath. In the depths. 

“I’ll go down and out through there,” he decides quietly. Just between him and the Spirit pair. Enough to get Vanille to stop pushing him. 

“Good. There’s a path. Follow me.” Fang turns, clearly expecting him to follow.

Which Xehanort does. To a certain point. 

It’s a labyrinth down here. A place to get lost in, to explore. Secrets hide here and he will find them. 

Ruse doesn’t need his help, she’s good at taking care of her own needs. A reason he allows her to linger, like with Eraqus. 

They’re not friends, because Xehanort left that behind when he took this path. However, this is a connection that he must follow up on, if only to see where it will lead him. 

To find where she went, escaped to. 

They are not  _ truly  _ connected as vessel to source. But she’s still marked with the Recusant's Sigil. She’s not here, but...Dream Eaters shed. 

Magic and Soul. 

She leaves a trail for him to follow. To an archway. 

Inside...a room full of shelves. Shelves full of all kinds of things. Old books whose paper looks ready to dissolve, jars full of eyes and tails and all manner of organs, claws of all kinds...

There’s even a stuffed dragon in the corner. An actual dragon that died and was stuffed, not the fluffy toy type. 

Dark and musty. It’s the complete spiritual opposite of the Scala ad Caelum’s libraries, in almost every way. Of course Ruse went in here. Her curiosity might one day be the death of her. 

He pauses at the closest shelf. Looks it over, sees...hm. 

A pen. Gleaming slightly purple, a magic to it. Feels like Ruse’s magic, almost. 

Turns it over. Squints at the words carved into the side. 

_ Pen of Perseverance.  _

Curious. 

“You should not be here.” Turn to see the speaker. 

There’s something that looks like a woman. In red and black robes. Watching him with dark orange eyes. 

“You. Mysterious Figure.”

Xehanort’s gloved hands clench into ready fists at his side. Ready to call out his blades. “Have we met?” he inquires politely. 

“I am Hyne. He/him. Second to our Lady Ultimecia.”

The floor shivers underfoot. 

Xehanort narrows his eyes at  _ him.  _ “Yes?”

“Vermin,” the Nightmare says without an ounce of emotion to it. Stating a fact. “You will belong to the Lady.”

Xehanort takes out his Ethereal Blades. They glow in the lowlight of this disaster of a storage place. “No. I will not.”

He belongs to nothing but his own fate. Darkness does not own him. 

Hyne grows. Spines unfurl and ochre eyes grow darker in color, brighter in glow. 

“You will.”

He just barely manages to catch tendrils with a blade. Sizzles and burns, the dark tentacles withdraw, for another attempted hit. Slicing out for his legs. 

Fast but not fast enough. 

A sting, an injury to the side. Xehanort grits his teeth, fights on. Grown soft on Ruse’s assistance, the power of Darkness is in standing  _ alone.  _

He can take Hyne. 

It might hurt, though. 

A splattering noise. The Nightmare screeches, all mouths and teeth. “Who dares!”

Knocked over, into the ground by another hit from behind. 

From...

It’s his older self, calmly flicking off green blood from his Keyblade. 

Like nothing of importance had just occurred. Like Hyne was nothing. The Nightmare probably was nothing. 

Xehanort is...impatient, he will admit, to get to that power. That strength. 

(No one will hurt him ever again. Or take anything that is  _ his. _ )

“She knows you’re here, you’ll pay!” Hyne hisses, writhing on the floor. “She’ll come!”

His older self smiles. The gold in his eyes is bright. “Not in time for  _ you. _ ”

The Keyblade comes down. 

Hyne’s head rolls off, and the body starts dissolving in the way those killed by Keyblades do. No more blood. 

Very clean, unlike Ruse’s bloody kills. 

“Why are you here?” Xehanort asks. Perhaps his future will give him an answer. Perhaps he won’t.

His future self looks pensive. He spreads his arms, gesturing to the strange items surrounding them, on the shelves. 

“Why, there’s information here. Facts to investigate further into, for the Keyblade Wars of yore.”

Xehanort looks around the room himself. The amount of old-looking trash and artifacts...there just might be something like that in here. 

“Also...” His elder smiles. “You thought to find Ruse here, am I correct?”

Xehanort nods, somewhat hesitant. “Yes. ...I would like to make her a vessel. A Seeker of Darkness.”

“She is your choice?”

The only one so far. “Yes.”

His elder sighs, a pleased sound. “Good. She...knows much. Has connections to something that stirs in the Dark. An enemy.”

Xehanort narrows his eyes. “The Nightmare who rules this place?” Who  _ stole  _ Ruse.

A headshake. “No, no. Nothing so mundane...a shadow, that knows more than it should. That seeks to overturn fate itself.”

“I will watch for it.” If it’s following Ruse, or is connected like his future self says...he’ll definitely run into it. 

Unless.

Years ago, that  _ attack.  _ On him and his fellow apprentices. 

“Is it responsible for what happened when we first truly left Scala ad Caelum?” 

Their eyes meet. “Yes.”

The younger Xehanort hums, thinking carefully. If that is so, and it must be, then Ruse...truly is an enemy of this shadow foe, to fight against that attempt to kill them all. 

His older self inclines his head. Turns towards the shelves, away from him. “Go forth, to your fate. I have matters to attend to.”

“Of course.”

No need to worry about Ruse’s escape, when his future self can take care of it, is willing to accept her as one of the thirteen. 

Xehanort opens a Corridor, to outside the Realm of Dreams, to the Realm of Light. Steps through. 

Into...rain. A dark city. A golden heart-shaped cluster above, full of...Hearts.

The city of his Nobody, perhaps? 

Xehanort settles on the edge, looking over the dark streets below. He lifts his hood over his head, to keep out the rain. A place to think, to rest. To plan his next move. 

Boots, behind him. 

Should leave. Something whispers,  _ stay.  _ So he does, still looking downwards. 

“Aha!”

Oh. That voice, he knows it. 

* * *

Rook doesn’t bleed but he’s pretty sure that’s only because he really doesn’t have a physical body to bleed with. 

He lays there, cheek pressed up against cold glass. Nearly cutting himself on the almost sharp edges of it. Ruse’s platform, probably. Hers is so much more hazardous than his own, always threatening to break apart and bring everything into oblivion. 

Rook might survive it, if it did. His Heart is stable. But Ruse definitely wouldn’t. 

“Rook?”

Oh. Ruse. 

“Hello,” he says, not lifting his head. 

The clomp of boots across the glass. She squats down next to him, in his view. 

“Oh...I’m sorry.” A hand lays on his shoulder. At the stub, where a wing used to be. “You shouldn’t have to fight my battles.”

“It’s the least I could do.” For this second chance. 

“Still. And...” A wet chuckle. Like Ruse’s about to cry. “I knew your cloak was wings, didn’t I say? But now you’re lopsided, only one...”

He reaches up to pat at her leg clumsily. “It’s alright. I still won.”

Ruse huffs. “For now. They’ll get stronger and a trick like what we pulled won’t work then.”

The answer to that is obvious. “Then we get stronger too.”

“Ha! You’re right. The two of us...we’ll beat that stupid cat into the ground any day.”

“Why are you here?” She’s checked on him, should be good now for that, why is she still there?

A sigh of a breath. “Just...” 

Ruse scoots closer to him, lowering her face so he can see her eyes. 

“Maybe we can try dreaming of Namine again. Since we’re apparently connected and all. Tell her to come here?” Ruse says hopefully. 

Rook doesn’t nod, only because his neck is sore. “Sure. Let’s try it.”

He misses Namine, misses talking to her. It’s a price he pays for the protection Ruse gives her, so he’ll gladly pay it.

But. 

Rook still misses her, an ache in his nonexistent bones and her face on his platform. 

“Yes. Please.”

“Okay, let me lay down first.” Ruse does, laying down and shuffling her body so they’re facing each other face-to-face. 

Her scars where he has none marks a clear difference between them. But the differences are more than that, the way she smiles and frowns, the color of her eyes. They’re more like twins tha true reflections of each other. 

Good, Rook decides. 

The last time he had a reflection...

(“I’m me, he says.”)

That didn’t turn out so well. This is better. Kinder. 

He reaches out...hesitates. What if she doesn’t wa-

Ruse grabs his hand in hers, no hesitation on her part. Slightly chilly to the touch, probably because of her Ice magic. 

He tightens his grip and Ruse does it back. She pulls herself closer, turns and twists, so they’re cuddled against each other on the glass. His remaining wings flaps awkwardly, until he manages to move it to act like a blanket for the two of them. 

Rook closes his eyes. 

This is...nice.

Nice not to be alone, with someone who...understands. 

They’re together now, and nothing can separate them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, next chapter's the last in this arc. Also, plans for future updates at my tumblr. Link below.  
> https://beastenraged.tumblr.com/post/641229280209240064/tell-me-fic-plans#notes


	54. Destati

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we wake up to: how time changes the people we know, to our actual time, to the possibility of revenge, and a hint of compassion for a past once thought long lost. 
> 
> Some of us just wake up.  
> Side B to Unintended

“Aha! I knew you would be here!”

Xehanort jerks in response. So loud! That familiar voice, unexpected to hear it again so soon. He says her name, almost thoughtlessly. “ _ Ruse?” _

But that revelation... she’s truly the same as ever. Even in the past, because this is where they are, aren’t they? Her past, his present. 

Always his present. 

The sound of boots dragging on the rooftop, moving through the splashing of gathered puddles, the tip tap of gentle rain. 

She’s standing next to him now. Frowning down at him, hands on her hips. Ruse wears her familiar black jacket, the one that reads in pink  _ i eat monsters.  _

Xehanort almost laughs at the realization. I eat monsters, yes, that is what she does. Over and over again, like she’s made for it. 

(She probably is.)

“Yeah, it’s me. We just met? In Hollow Bastion?”

Her indigo eyes search his hood, looking for his face. 

There is no one else to see it, but her. He will let her have this. Xehanort lowers his hood, letting the rain drip onto his face once more. 

Hollow Bastion...so that is where he will go next after this stop. If they ‘just met’ there. 

“...so that is what lies ahead.”

Ruse moves to sit down. He moves to stand, stand behind her. Watching her. 

She’s probably frowning, still, as she says her next words. “Why are you here? Why pick here?”

His future self told him to go, and he went. Came here, though Xehanort knew not his destination. Perhaps...that is fate. To meet who he searched for, at a time when she didn’t needed to be looked for. 

“It is Fated.”

Fated to meet each other again and again, until Ruse at last agrees to follow him. 

(“I’ll protect you guys, no matter what. Got it?”)

Not that he needs protection...not for a long time now. 

An exhale of breath as she sucks in enough to puff up her cheeks in displeasure and then spit out it again. “Dumb.”

Of course. Xehanort doesn’t smile because it’s not really funny. But it is expected, so he wants to. 

“Is it really a choice if your future self already chose for you?” Her feet go clunking against the side of the building as she kicks them. 

“Is that not fate? What do you think destiny is?”

What does your past think, Ruse? 

“I think...” Ruse taps her fingers on the stone, looking over her shoulder at him. Her eyes are bright, glowing in the gentle glow of that false Kingdom Hearts far above. The consistent rain adds a glimmer to the sight. “Fate is tricky, you know?”

Yes. Xehanort knows. Time is just the same. 

“Have you ever considered just...walking away?” Ruse winces as soon as she finishes her question, clearly expecting his answer. 

His non-verbal answer of...how could she think that, of all people? After what she has done? 

Or will do. Perhaps...she asks because she does not know herself yet, though she does seem to know him anyway. 

“Would you consider not defending a group of naive apprentices at your back, from some great Nightmare?” 

As in their first meeting...

Ruse waves her hands, answer coming right away. “Of course not!”

Xehanort relaxes at that. Of course not. Good. The roots of who she will become are strong. 

“So it’s the same, huh? And why that example?”

Why that example? 

Xehanort closes his eyes. It is the foundation of what she is, of what he is. 

As much as he is shaped by his future coming to open a door to Scala de Caelum, he is shaped by what (and who) saved the lives of him and his past friends so long ago. 

Before everything fell apart. 

“It is your nature as this is mine. You cannot fight it anymore than I am able to.”

And if she did, loathe as Xehanort is to admit it, he would have been dead a long time ago. 

She bites her lip. Enough to draw her inhuman blood to the surface. Blood that led to those old friends of his to mistrust her so. 

“There’s the nurture part too, you know. Nature doesn’t  _ have  _ to control you, or me. We can pick.”

(“Fighting my nature has only gotten me pain.” A pained smile. “I am a Nightmare, through and through. Time to admit that.”)

He lowers his chin. “Do you really believe that?”

She swallows. “I want to.”

(“But I want to be more than that.”)

The more things change, the more they remain the same. 

Xehanort looks at the bones of the Replica he’s interacted with for the last couple weeks, and before that...who knows how long, memory runs dry. 

“You are...” Stubborn. “...Interesting.”

She narrows her eyes at him, screws her face up in a scowl. Her scars make the gesture seem fiercer than intended. “You were about to say something a lot meaner, weren’t you?”

“Of course not.” Unless stubborn is an insult to her. Which probably isn’t, knowing Ruse. He waves a hand in dismissal. “I merely lack the words to describe exactly what you are. Interesting will have to do.”

“I guess I can live with that.” Oh? Surprising? 

The way she kicks her feet, searches the streets below and the skies above...she must be in a hurry. 

“I need to go. Roxas needs my help getting back.”

The X in the name...a Nobody, perhaps? And knowing how Ruse opposes him, in the past, the way she almost opposed him in the Realm of Dreams...

She doesn’t need a warning. She’ll make it to his past no matter what. 

Still. 

He meets her gaze head-on. Steady. 

“My older self’s Nobody...he will oppose you. He already moves to.”

She laughs. Of course she does. Ruse is very light-hearted when it comes to a fight. 

“Ha! Didn’t expect any differently, taking Xion and Roxas out of the house...” Indigo eyes suddenly eye him suspiciously. “You won’t fight me about that, will you?”

Xehanort fights back his first impulse, to hiss,  _ why would I do that right now? Why would I ruin the future for a petty gesture now? _

He goes with the second instead, paired with a scowl. “One that is willing,  _ knowing,  _ is worth far more than an ignorant fool. Even if the fool has more power than he should.”

_ Sora.  _ Ugh. 

Ruse is gone with a laugh and splash, by the time he really looks over. A shouted farewell, even when it’s clear this version of her doesn’t trust him at all. 

Xehanort fades back into the shadows. Unseen by anyone who may look again or look anew. Watches the false moon far above. 

The glow is bright, but it won’t last. 

Not like the rest of his plans will. 

* * *

Maleficent opens her eyes and breathes in the air of the correct time. 

Of  _ her  _ time, the future of a past she just traveled from. 

“Maleficent?” Her pitiful minion, Pete quivers. He immediately (and correctly) begins to grovel at her feet. “Oh, yer back! Those pipsqueaks said yah was dead, but I knew you couldn't be!”

“No, I am not.” A smile almost plays at her lips. “Rumors of my death were greatly exaggerated, it seems.”

She turns to look over her dominion. But...the waters have drained away. Light has returned and Darkness fled. No longer  _ hers.  _

Her claws dig into her staff. Of course. Another effort to prevent her from learning the importance of Radiant Garden, an importance apparently so great that history itself turned to stop her from finding its secrets. 

Pete watches her eagerly. “What’s the plan? What’s next?”

What’s next...

Well. 

“There are allies to be called upon.”

One in particular, one she met in the past. An individual who Maleficent, of course, cannot trust. They will attempt to use her, as allies do. 

But she will use them first. 

She snaps her fingers. Just as promised, a messenger appears before her, weaving itself out of the Dark. 

By her side, Pete yelps and stumbles back. 

An owl with solid red eyes, in feathers of black, purple, and blue. Green talons clutch onto a nearby rotting chair. Watching her. Waiting. 

“ _ Message?”  _ it inquires, turning its head to the side. 

Oh, what was it called again...? Something ridiculous, oh, right,  _ Peepsta Hoo.  _

A Nightmare. 

“Tell Toxicity...I have  _ returned.” _

* * *

The kid’s laying in his bed, fast asleep. Finally. 

Xigbar lets out a sigh of relief as he turns away. He didn’t sign up for  _ babysitting,  _ thank you very much. He’s done a lot of things, over his life, but babysitting is always the hardest and messiest. 

(Harder to keep not involved that way.)

Now, what has the great  _ Superior  _ been up to, in private?

Perfect time to check, since he’s totally just here to watch over Ventus. Really truly, cross his Heart and hope to die. Why would he be doing anything else?

Files. Notices. Nothing that Xigbar couldn’t get from annoying Saix so far. 

His eye catches a gleam, his ears a buzz. 

He sniffs. The stink of dust and dead leaves. “Ah...here?” Reaches out to the back, behind the dust. Pulls the source of the stink out. 

A Heart. A Heart in a very particular storage system, a type of system that Xigbar recalls destroying about a year ago. In Castle Oblivion, of all places. 

“Well, well. Didn’t call you making it.” Xigbar wraps his fingers around the Heart, holding it up to better see it. The Heart pulses. Flashes memories, thoughts. 

_ “Dande _ lions,  **war,** sh _ ould _ **_n’t be like this._ ** _ Ven _ tus?”

Hm. Funny. Here he thought the Heart that powered Castle Oblivion’s mainframe wasn’t supposed to recall anything. Yet it is, trying to do so. 

His free fingers drum against his leg. What shall he do about that?

There’s no body to sneak off this time, of a certain Subject that knows too much to be allowed to linger in a lab. Just a Heart that’ll break apart should Xigbar disconnect it from its wiring, with no body or Soul to support it. 

Go back to Kingdom Hearts, where it belongs. 

That would be the easiest way. Most efficient. 

He looks over the Heart again. 

“Since the kid’s up and about, what’s to say he didn’t accidentally do something to you? Knock you over, squish, gone,” he muses out loud. “Simple accident, I can make it happen for real.”

A dry chuckle as he shakes his head. “As if anyone would really care. I don’t think Xemnas would at all.”

Not with how the Heart’s storage has been shoved to the back. Xigbar would bet his non-existent Heart that Xemnas had been using it to wake Ventus and nothing more. 

But.

If the Superior’s already forgotten it, mostly, then Xigbar doesn’t need to make up any excuses. He can do that deed right now. He can do whatever he wants.

What he wants...

“Let’s say, you and I go on a little trip, how ‘bout that?”

Xigbar slips the Heart into his pocket, after disconnecting it carefully. Should last just long enough for him to get to its new destination. Its warmth is hot against him, where coat meets leg. Along with more flashes. 

“ _Put_ do **wn, who** _y_ ou **?”**

“Yeah, yeah, that doesn’t matter.” A twitch of his lips. “Dandelion.”

The Heart almost recoils in response. If one can call the next pulse of images that. 

“ _ You  _ **know, b** **_a_ ** D, must  _ no _ **_t_ ** **know.** ”

Xigbar shrugs. “But I do. And not only that...I know someone who would  _ love  _ to see you, actually.”

A smile of sorts, though it’s really too serious of an expression to be really called that much. 

“How ‘bout that?”

* * *

The girl currently known as Ema studies her scythe. Cleans it of any blood, checks it for nicks. Not that it really matters, any gore would disappear as soon as she dematerializes it. Same with the nicks, and possible breaks. 

More about the soothing motions of the action than actually accomplishing anything. 

She checks her medals for the same reason, though they remain the exact same as always. 

The ground is cold against her knees. Ice cold, even through her cloak. 

She kneels next to...her mark. The mark of a flower, marking a crude grave Ema once tried to create. The bones are gone.  _ Rose’s  _ bones are gone. Leaving her behind yet again. 

Well, the shadowy Nightmare that Ema had called Rose. The Nightmare had never given her a name to call them by, so...

Rose it was. The flower just seemed  _ right,  _ for some reason, even with Ema’s past being a blurry thing beyond recall. Rose didn’t object, cuddled closer when Ema asked. So. It had been alright. It had to be. 

Rose sang songs both wordless and not, hummed them to Ema’s Heart. Gave her strength, a connection, a way to stand up again. 

Until. 

Ema squints her eyes, holding back the Darkness threatening to spill out of them. 

No, don’t be weak. Not now. Not ever. 

Until Toxicity sent them on a mission. A mission the fragile Nightmare should have never been assigned, a mission against a Keyblade wielder. 

She knows his name. Sora.  _ Hates  _ him for killing the only person who cared about her, in this Dark place. Could show they cared. 

Now Ema is alone. Stronger than Rose ever got a chance to be. Her gloved hand rests against the carved flower.  _ Rose.  _

Her scythe buzzes. Promises vengeance. First the Keyblade Warrior, first Sora. Then...she tightens her grip on her weapon. Toxicity will pay. 

For now, the Nightmare serves as a path to destroy Sora. But afterwards?

Free game. The Nightmare should and will pay for sending Rose away into dangers they should have never faced, could not face.

But before all of that. Very first of all on that list, now. 

Whoever stole those bones, desecrated that grave...

She stands. Her scythe  _ sings.  _ Her medals gleam. 

Ema will hunt them down. 

* * *

Waking up, for once, is a refreshing experience. Snuggling with Rook in dreamland helped quite a bit, probably. 

My Heart is full. 

I turn over and promptly almost bash my head open on the bed railing. Dumb hospital bed thing!

“Agh!”

Vexen and DiZ are across the room, poking at Aqua. Probably. Vexen looks up in my direction, but returns to his work when nothing else happens. 

I stick my tongue out in his direction. He, of course, doesn’t see the gesture. 

Urgh. What am I going to do about him? About this? 

I killed him, he should  _ hate me.  _ He probably hated Axel for what he did, in the canon timeline. I shredded him, turned him into a bloody pulp under my claws before Axel finished the task. Why wouldn’t Vexen hate me?

(I  _ hate me.  _ For that loss of control.)

(Why won’t he?)

So.

Let’s see how far I can take this, how far I can push. 

If Vexen hurts me again...then I’m right. I must be right. And I’ll figure it out before anyone else gets hurt. I won’t let him hurt anyone else. 

I nod to myself, huddling under my blankets. What a good plan. 

I can do this. 

Open my mouth and-

Yawn. Almost crack my jaw in the process. Ouch.

A flurry by the door, I sit up to better catch it. DiZ moves over to said door, after a short exchange with Vexen.

“You’ve returned,” he states what is probably the obvious but I don’t know, because I haven’t been here around long enough to know if that’s the case. 

Hm, who’s he talking to?

I squint, catch pale blond hair, the edges of a white skirt...could it be?

My heart picks up in my chest. 

“Hello, DiZ.” A short bob of movement. 

The voice seals it. “Namine!” I call out. “Namine!” 

It’s been so long, I’ve missed her! I can almost feel Rook chanting her name with me, tucked away in my Heart. 

Namine steps around DiZ, rushing towards me. Almost running. “Ruse! You’re back! You’re alive!”

“Of course I am! I had to come back!” No dying on my watch, what would the people I care about do, if I died for them? What use is a sacrifice is everything that matters is lost? I can’t do that,  _ won’t  _ do that. 

She bends over the railing, wraps her arms around me. A hug!

I eagerly return it, burying my head in her shoulder. Namine’s Heart sings its familiar tune, her theme, her everything. Reunion. 

“Ruse? This is who we’ve been looking for?” Hm, familiar voice, but not from this life. From the redhead. Oh, I know her, why is she here instead of Destiny Islands? 

“This is my best friend Ruse,” Namine introduces. “Ruse, this is Xion and Kairi.”

Cough, cough, something’s caught in my throat, just a little choked up. She really thinks of me like that? Oh. That’s...oh.

My Heart hums and hers hum back. Unbreakable connection. 

That’s pretty great, actually. Even with her crush and everything...maybe she won’t leave me behind.

Wait, she has a crush? When did that happen? I don’t remember that!

To the other girls, other girls who never teamed up before in another life...though that’s really cool, guess some changes are for the better. Go girl power, am I right?

Xion looks good in red and black, against black hair and kind of purple blue eyes. Rook’s colors. But it’s okay for more than one person to wear the same colors, really. Not my deal. 

Different from...hm. What was I thinking? Couldn’t have been that important, if I forgot. 

Her purpley eyes are fixed on my face. Expecting something. What is she expecting?

I nod to her. “Xion, how’re you doing?”

_ Relief.  _ Unexpected relief. What did I do? Huh? “Pretty good.” She fiddles with her hands, looking away from me. 

...is she the crush? The crush that Namine has but I don’t remember anything about?

That’s weird. Maybe my brain just hates possible romance that much, to blank it out.

Oh well. That’s kinda important, though. Maybe I should try remembering for Namine. 

Xion. Xion Xion  _ Xion.  _ Got it. 

(Maybe I should hug her too...?)

Behind her, stepping forward for me to see (and hear), I can’t help 

Oh  _ wow.  _ Kairi, her Heart, it’s Sora levels of loud.  _ Really  _ loud. Maybe it’s cuz she’s a Princess of Heart? But that doesn’t explain Sora...

I push away my unease and smile in her direction. “Nice to meet you.”

Kairi nods. Smiles. She wears her Kingdom Hearts 2 outfit, guess it is that time frame, huh? Weird to think. “You too.”

I pat at the mattress. “Hey, come sit down?”

Namine plops down without hesitation right next to me. I reach out, wrap my hand around hers. It’s warm. Her fingers return the gesture. 

Xion follows suit, crawling onto the end of the bed over the railing. Kairi hesitates. 

“Um, are you sure about this?”

I shrug. “Sure, why not?”

Kairi shrugs back, in much less nonchalant mirroring of my gesture. Crawls onto the bed too, right next to Xion. 

There’s a screech at the end of the room. Vexen, who’s just looked up from his work at Aqua’s bedside and notices what we’re doing. 

“What are you doing?! Not all at once-!”

_ Crack.  _ My ears catch the edges of something breaking. Shivering underneath the weight of four teen girls. 

The bed  _ breaks.  _

Heaves downward in collapse, taking us all down with it. A complete and total mess. 

“Huh. Didn’t know you could break a metal bed like that. Must be old,” I think out loud, laying in the wreckage. 

Namine wiggles out from beside me. 

Xion sits up straight, eyes wide and hair sticking up. “Whoa,” she breathes. 

“Ow,” Kairi contributes, from the other end of the bed. Her voice is somewhat muffled by burying her face into the incredibly dusty mattress. 

So ridiculous, I can’t help but-!

Laugh. Laugh and laugh. 

“Hm?” Namine makes an inquiring noise. 

I wipe tears away from my eyes. “It’s just...”

I smile, as wide as I can. Pretty wide, probably too wide. Whatever. 

“I’m so happy you’re here.” All of them. 

The future is going to go  _ great!  _ I’m sure of it. 

Definitely with an entire team by my side to face whatever comes. 

* * *

_ The more things change... _

The smoke in the air, the strong stink of unwashed bodies and grainy beer, the sound of raucous laughter...

Tortuga. The island of pirates. 

Sure sets the stage, doesn’t it? For  _ adventure.  _

I reach up to tug at my earlobe thoughtfully. “Maybe I should get some earrings...”

Or...my hand goes over to cover my right eye. I wink broadly with my left. “Hey, whatcha think about an eyepatch?”

“Don’t be another Xigbar,” Xion tells me bluntly. 

“Yes, that would be something to be avoided...” a cultured voice speaks from behind me. 

_ The more history repeats... _

“Ven?” 

She takes a single step forward, her Keyblade shaking. Drifting downwards. 

Her friend, he’s there. Standing in front of her in a black coat. The same black coat their enemies have all been wearing so far. 

He lifts his head. 

Aqua can’t hold back her gasp at...yellow eyes. 

No. No. Not again. 

It can’t be, not Vanitas taking her friend’s body again. 

Ven speaks. Freezes her in her tracks. 

“Who are you?”

_ What do you do, if you are doomed from the start? _

I stand over my kill, the rapidly fading body, disintegrating into the Dark. 

I stand over it, with bloody hands. Hands dripping black, black, black. Darker than Dark. 

Most of the fight is a blur. Just...hate and rage.  _ Hunger.  _

I try for a laugh, throwing my head back. A choking, straight from my gut. Black blood, sticky on my face. 

“If I had a nickel for every time I shredded a Nobody while losing control...”

The blood is sweet on my tongue, dripping from my teeth. Like sweet-sour. Good tasting. Food. I want more. 

“...I’d have two nickels.”

Look over to meet horrified blue eyes. Horrified at what I have done. 

_ Monster.  _

“Funny it happened twice, huh?”

  
  


“Oh, you  _ have no idea  _ what I’ve  _ done _ .”

**End of Dreaming Dark, Devouring Destiny Arc**

**Start of Second Chance Failure Arc**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of the arc...which means the usual break that might or might not be an actual break considering how the muse operates. Yeah!  
> Reminder that next arc will be the last of this particular fic, story to be continued in a sequel, title still pending.  
> Now...favorite character interactions? A favorite scene? Answer or not, I'm just curious!


	55. Informative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our Hero tries for Worst Roommate Ever, Even doesn't know what to do with this lost sassy child, and the Gals race for Fun and Profit. 
> 
> (Ema exists. That's all she does. She's trying.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I’m going to admit it right here: Kingdom Hearts 2 is not my favorite Kingdom Hearts game. The Drive and Quicktime mechanics are fun and the original characters introduced are cool. That’s pretty much it, everything else leaves a lot to be desired (except maybe the Roxas bits). That being said, I’m still fiddling around with the plot of this arc because it’s really not practical to have one kid (or one group) going around to save every Disney world.   
> A lot of canon world plots have already been averted/changed by actions in the past two arcs. I’ll touch on some Disney worlds, but a lot of stuff is probably going to happen off-screen for that, especially on Sora’s stuff. Sora is not even close to having the amount of screen time he has canonically and I’m okay with that.   
> Since I’m still figuring it out...we’ll see on update speed. Thanks for reading.

_ “World serves its own needs, listen to your heart bleed.” -R.E.M., It’s the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine) _

What’s it like to be this? Is it anything like that?

Our experiences are shaped by our flesh. What we look like influences how people will interact with us.

It’s an experience and half looking exactly like someone else, let me tell you. Wonder if twins have the same issue...probably. 

Scars change thoughts as much as they do skin. Sinking down to the bone. Make me look...monstrous. Like I’m falling apart, a vicious beast. 

I cannot escape what you see of me, what I am, and neither can you. 

But what am I? What do these scars tell you? 

Could you say what it is, please?

If my face is no longer the same...how much of a role does a past life play?

* * *

Really unfortunate that I don’t know what Vexen’s favorite food is. Makes it difficult to eat that food obnoxiously and noisily. 

Well, guess I can just do that with the rest of the food in the kitchen, I guess. Helps that I’m hungry enough to do so. 

This place is...dusty. Hasn’t been used in forever, in a decade or so most likely. Ever since the Apprentices screwed up their own world and countless others. I...don’t really know what to feel about that, actually. Sure, it’s a terrible tragedy. But I wouldn’t exist without its occurrence. Neither would Naminé or Xion or Rook...

Does that make me a bad person? Not caring about that? 

I think I cared about it once...or at least Harper did. Harper and me, it’s...hard. What is  _ me  _ and what are the bones I once rode? 

...I’m hungrier than Harper was, before, I’m pretty sure that much has changed. 

But first, dusty kitchen and the food...I dig through the cupboards. The fridge or icebox or whatever they call it died a long time ago and I’m grateful that it’s been cleaned out instead of facing a mold invasion. Just cans left at this point. 

I squint at the cans, mouth the numbers on them to myself. 032032. I...don’t actually know what that means. Suddenly, the realization comes to me that I don’t know a  _ lot  _ of things. Like Radiant Garden’s calendar system, or what numbered year they were on if they used that in the first place. Or even if the numbers  _ mean _ the date of expiration for food. Would food even be expired if this world technically didn’t fully exist for a number of years?

“Um.” Do I...? 

Screw it. I will. Cover up my fingers with my Dark Suit, bring out the claws. Those new claws poke holes in the cans, allow me to pry them open to get to the food inside.

All kinds of things...meat stuff, veggie mush, and syrup fruit. Spam, maybe?

Meat’s most likely gone bad, and I avoid the tomato-looking lumps. High acid is bad, I faintly recall. The rest? Free game! Dig in!

Squat on the counters and eat. Yuummm. Filling. 

Love the syrup-y stuff best, the too-sweet sweetness feels good sticking to the sides of my throat. Lick the cans out, get as much as I can. Nearly cut my tongue, be more careful! Every last drop, mine. 

Still hungry. 

I glance over at the meat cans speculatively. Maybe I should try those out? Probably would live through food poisoning, my Replica body is pretty sturdy even if my Heart is the opposite of that.

Plus I would make a mess, so-

“What are you  _ doing?”  _ Oooh, heavy disapproval! I look around eagerly, to see a certain red robed, masked up guy staring at him in what’s probably disgust. 

Oh man. It’s not Vexen. How disappointing. Just DiZ. Well, it  _ is  _ his voice...

“Eating.” The ‘duh’ goes unspoken as I stare him down. 

DiZ’s orange eyes narrow at me. He gestures to the empty cans littering the floors and counters. “You’re eating  _ that. _ ”

“I’m  _ hungry. _ ” The last part comes out as a whine. Inwardly I wince. Man, I sound like a bratty  _ baby _ . But anything to bug these people, right? “What else am I supposed to eat?”

“And you’re out of granola bars, I presume.”

“...Yeah.” I squint at him. 

DiZ sighs like I’m putting the weight of the world on him. He offers me a hand. “Here.”

There’s a granola bar in that hand. Exactly the type I snatched off him before. I snatch this one as well. 

“Ask for more instead of eating strange...leftovers,” DiZ instructs me. He pauses. “Get off the counter.”

I consider that, I really do. It’s just really unfortunate for DiZ that I’m in no mood for listening right now. To any old men. 

“No.”

DiZ, surprisingly, doesn’t fight me. He does grumble something like, “Teenagers,” under his breath, but I graciously let that pass. 

“Hey, when’s the rest of the girls gonna get back? And the boys?” I tilt my head back at the musty ceiling, tapping at my chin. 

Oh, that looks like a stain? Better not be mold, that stuff can  _ kill... _

“They’ll be back soon enough,” DiZ says stiffly. 

I grin at him. No, more like  _ smirk.  _ Can feel my scars twisting. “You don’t know, do you?” 

My fingers peel open the granola bar. I start crunching away at it, making the most  _ annoying  _ noises. Enough that I can practically  _ feel  _ DiZ’s scowl. 

“Must be annoying not knowing something. I’ve got no idea what that’s like.”

“...There’s a heavy price for knowing.”

Huh? I pause, mid-chomp. Look over into serious (all of the time) and thoughtful (rarely) orange eyes. Have we entered philosophy territory? I didn’t know that was a thing to worry about!

“I guess there is,” I say slowly, tugging at the granola bar wrapping, “But I don’t think this case demands those high prices.”

“Possibly,” he allows. His fingers tap against the arm, as he folds them across his chest. “Your friends are...racing. To get through the digitalscape first.”

“Racing?” I chuckle a little. That’s...kind of funny. Would have never guessed that. “Between the two groups, right? Or among each other?”

“Depending on the situation.” Can almost taste his disconcertion. “There are various competitions going on.”

Naminé, Xion, and Kairi...verses Trinity Trio plus Riku. The safe better would be the latter, considering their experience. 

But...

I smile. Shove the granola bar into my mouth. Speak with my mouth full. “Betcha da grrrls win.”

“It’s possible, with the Linking Program in Naminé’s possession.” DiZ actually doesn’t shoot me down, what about that? Or say anything about my awful manners, though he’s surely  _ dying  _ to. Too weird.

“Hrm.” I swallow. Mouth dry, ugh, that’s a pretty dried up granola bar. Hate the fruit ones, why did he give me one of those? “I hate the fruity ones,” I inform him bluntly. 

“...what is your preference?” DiZ asks, very carefully  _ not  _ looking at me. 

I eye him suspiciously. What’s with this niceness? Should still be a jerk...better than in canon, but still a jerk. 

“Anything sweet,” I finally settle on. “Chocolate is good.”

“Very well.” No argument? What does that mean? Hm, I don’t like any of this...

Enough of this. I’m out! I slide off the counter, stomp out the kitchen door without looking back even  _ once.  _

I huff to myself. I  _ miss  _ being able to just...wander around. Do whatever I want. Go wherever I want. Used to be able to pop over to Twilight Town for some sopapillas, visit the Underworld for a fight and chats with Braska and Auron...none of this waiting around for people stuff. Or being stuck around old people that I don’t really like stuff. 

It’s an aspect of my life that I had just started to miss in the Realm of Dreams, and am definitely missing now. That freedom to wander the worlds. 

I’m lucky, really. Most people don’t ever get a chance to leave their world, and a whole ton of people don’t even manage to leave their hometown in the worlds that are pre-easy worldwide transportation. 

My itch is a rare kind of itch, in light of that. 

I still miss Dark Corridoring and its weird whale pressure. How weird is that?

Wandering around Radiant Garden’s castle holds none of that same thrill. 

Ugh. I  _ hate  _ this. So bored, when they are going to be back?

“Ruse!”

Oh, that, I know. I freeze in response, looking at that narrow face and green eyes of the man moving towards me. 

_ Even.  _

I hiss. What’s  _ he  _ doing here?

* * *

There’s only so long Even can avoid Ruse. Or Ruse avoid him. 

He needs to bridge the gap. Especially if the problem of the locked up data is soon to be solved, with the pack of wild children that invaded the mainframe in search of Tron. 

Children and Disnians, actually. But close enough, in some ways.

Data that he can use to readjust Ruse’s body for her. And Xion’s, since she’s suffering from some Replica-related health issues as well. 

But mostly Ruse, since her case is far more severe. 

The currently available spaces of the castle are close together. If he purposefully seeks her out, he will find her. Eventually. 

His head aches, as he navigates the dusty halls. Past the library to...

Ah. 

There she is, right at the corner. 

“Ruse!” He calls out. 

She freezes, instead of running. Which isn’t the  _ greatest  _ of responses, but at least he doesn’t have to chase after her. What a pain that would have been.

A hissing sound. Even ignores it to move closer, but not too close. Not in reach for either of them. 

“What do  _ you  _ want?”

A flash of memory, from different eyes. 

(An actual friend of Riku, not...me. Not the asshole reflection of him. I sigh. Kneel next to Riku’s very still body. Reach out.)

Even’s never been one for high empathy. Not in the past, not now, not ever. But even he has some boundaries. 

It’s a bother to have Ruse’s memories floating among his own, vaguely and popping up mostly in dreams. They’re clearly hers, though, which makes his life a little easier. 

A bother but entirely too useful with navigating the Replica in question. Enough to theorize about how she might react to certain...things. 

Careful, careful. Even’s never been good at words either. Ones that don’t upset the other party, at least. Inwardly, he sighs. This will be...difficult. 

Might as well rip off the metaphorical bandage now. 

“You should find another cover story than learning it in Castle Oblivion.” Even gets straight down to the facts. 

Ruse stiffens. “What are you talking about?” Her hands flex back and forth between fist and open hand. 

“For the amount of information you carry around...not all of it can be explained by your time in a strange castle that you did not actually spend most of your time in,” Even explains, “Naminé obviously knows your secret, but Riku and my old Master don’t. Eventually they’ll poke holes in it.”

Indigo eyes narrow at him. Glowing with aggressive purpose. “And why do you care? Why does it matter?”

Even rubs at his chest. At the scars covered by his sweater. “It  _ matters  _ because eventually you’ll be asked questions you don’t want to answer. And it would be preferable if you did not lose control and physically attack people for it.”

Ruse flinches. Curls up on herself, her hands grabbing at her thighs. Attempts to shrink into the wall behind her. 

Even refuses to feel sorry. It’s a valid risk to consider, with her past actions. One that he would like to avert for multiple reasons, the least of being the acid guilt sticking to such memories he has of those past actions. Of what pushed her to that point. 

“Fine,” Ruse spits out the word like it’s poison in her mouth. “Tell me what to do.” Her lip curls. “You’re  _ great  _ at that.”

Impolite. Of course. The usual, with interactions between the two of them. 

Even swallows his own harsh words in response. Considers. It’s been  _ easier  _ to control his irritation, with his Heart returned. The irritation is the same, but now he can choose to ignore it in a way that seemed impossible as a Nobody. 

(Probably not helped by him denying that emotion existed in the first place...)

“You’re a reincarnate,” Even starts with, carefully watching Ruse for her response. She stiffens, but makes no aggressive move towards him. 

Good, he can continue. 

“A reincarnate that had a past history with Ventus, of some kind. A boy with a Keyblade, that woman’s friend, Aqua, and is currently...missing.”

Even paces. Thinking out loud.

“You said you saw him, but he didn’t know you...and you know quite a lot about the worlds. Possibly wandered them yourself, before...and that connection with what you called ‘the Guide’...”

Ruse thumps her head against the wall behind her. 

“So?” she demands, “What’s that mean to you? What’s your theory?”

Even tugs at the lapels of his lab coat, readjusting the crookedness of them. “Did you have a Keyblade in your past life?”

Ruse’s eyes go wide. Clearly shocked. “What?”

“Were you part of some Keyblade tradition, much like Aqua and Ventus?” Even clarifies. 

Ruse laughs, shaking her head. “...whoa, not bad. That’s actually kind of logical, when you put it out there like that.”

Even narrows his eyes at her. That’s not an answer. She’s so very much like Braig right after he lost his eye, constantly dodging all kinds of questions with laughter and mocking smiles on a newly scarred face.

He’s also pretty sure Ruse would be offended if he ever made that comparison out loud. 

“But to answer that question...” Ruse puts her hands up behind her head. Smiles, scars twisting oddly. “I have never owned a Keyblade. I don’t want one, actually. Too much of a burden.”

Never owned one, but claims they’re a heavy weight to bear. 

Curious. 

Even’ll let it pass, for now. She’s starting to twitch, clearly not wanting to stay around him any longer, to answer more questions. But she won’t leave first. 

He turns. “I have work to do.”

“Right. Of course you do.”

“Perhaps you can think of fleshing out your cover further,” he offers, vaguely recalling why this conversation started in the first place.

“Yeah. I’ll...do that.” She shuffles her feet. Doesn’t meet his eyes. 

One last important question. The reason he sought her out in the first place. The words are difficult to piece together. It must be done. 

“Would you prefer myself or my old Master to conduct your health checks?”

As much as it  _ burns  _ to even consider Ansem the Wise getting his hands on his work...Ruse’s end term survival is far more vital than his pride.

Even  _ hates  _ it. The Replica Project is  _ his,  _ but...he’s ruined it. In his pride as Vexen, he’s ruined his chance and now he must face the consequences for it. 

Her indigo eyes are very wide. Shocked, as she taps at her chin. Thinking. 

“Um. Er, I’ll getbacktoyouonthat.” She suddenly breaks from standing still to a sprint down the hall. Away from him. 

Even sighs and resists the urge to put his head in his hands. As much as he  _ hates  _ it, Even’ll wait for her. 

It’s the only thing he can do, at this point. 

* * *

I retreat to the bed in the infirmary place. Really too public for my tastes, but it's the only soft place I have to cuddle in, the bed that is my bed. Well, a new bed after the last one’s frame went out. 

My chest aches. My face itches. A thousand tiny stings of irritation, all reminding me that I am  _ gloriously  _ alive. But not forever. 

I...don’t know what to do. I don’t want DiZ  _ or  _ Vexen touching me, looking at me like the science experiment that I am. But...I need at least one to do that looking, because...

(“Then you will die. Be consumed.” Orange eyes amid the musty shadows.)

My stupid falling apart Heart. That’s all. Nothing more, nothing less. 

My arms wrap around me, one hand reaching up to trace at a scar. To scratch at it, as the thoughts grow deeper and noisier. A game of ‘would you rather,’ that I’m playing. 

DiZ did it in the past, but DiZ didn’t catch my Heart falling apart. Or didn’t tell me, if he did. Vexen might know more, but...

(“You’ll sleep until I have properly taken care of the damages. Your role here is done.”)

My entire body flinches at the memory. I...don’t want this. Never want this. How do I know that Vexen won’t try to pull that again, put me to sleep for my ‘own good’?

I want...a hug. Yeah. A hug. A hug from Naminé. 

When will she be back?

I huddle in this too exposed bed. Glance over to Aqua, still sleeping away in a bed down the row. Her hair looks very blue, very different to see it in real life instead of through a TV screen. She looks peaceful. 

Like I’ve haven’t completely ruined Ventus’ life by causing the collapse of Castle Oblivion. It’s easy to know what’s my fault, when I was never supposed to be here. Because it wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t exist, and Ventus would be safe and waking up a few years from now. The Land of Departure would come back and GoD would be absolutely  _ fine,  _ getting to see their people again. 

I know this for a fact. 

A shiver in my chest. Rook’s very weak voice whispers in my ear.  _ But she’s here sooner, now isn’t she? Out of that terrible place.  _

Oh. My fingers pause in their scratching. He’s right. He would know about Aqua in the Dark, if he knows enough to copy her fighting style. 

“I think she would prefer Ve- you know. To be okay,” I say wryly. 

A huffing sound.  _ Yeah. We all sacrifice ourselves for each other, don’t we? _

At least he’s aware of it. I’m not sure if anyone else of the ‘heroes’ would admit that if I brought it up. 

“Yeah and it’s a little frustrating. I just want...” I pause. My hand goes down to rub at my chest. Unable to touch the Replica that resides inside. 

Want all the people I care about to stop throwing themselves in front of bullets for each other. We’ve got weapons and magic and shit. People  _ can  _ manage to protect themselves. 

Sure, watch each others’ backs, of course. Support each other, friends are my power and all that. But don’t  _ die for it,  _ every time something goes wrong. 

“Do you want me to tell Naminé about you?” I blurt out. 

_ What?!  _ His shock runs through me like a static shock.  _ Why would you do that?  _

“Because you still care about her.” Cared enough in the first place to give his body over to some suspicious Nightmare creature on death’s waters, for a second chance to protect her. To change her life for the better. 

_ She doesn’t know me. Never will.  _ There’s a sorrow to the words, but also...acceptance. 

“You could try a new friendship,” I suggest. One less...uneven, considering what happened canonically between Naminé and Riku Replica. Naminé and Rook. 

_ It’s better for everyone if I don’t.  _ Another sacrifice. I grit my teeth, chest heaving. 

Enough sacrifices! Enough dying! I’m going to...I’m going to...

(Blood dripping down fingers and hands. Shards of Keyblades in my flesh. Can’t let them find my only defense. Useless as it is.)

(I’m going to die here.)

_ Ruse? _

Sit here and cry. 

The tears are sticky with mucus as they run down my cheeks. Sob and can’t stop. I’m such a  _ baby,  _ I  _ hate this.  _ Why can’t I be better? I feel like I’m going to  _ puke  _ too, ugh. 

I didn’t cry so much before, in the Realm of Dreams. Cried only a little bit, in front of Naminé. I don’t want to cry like this!

Why must everything hit me  _ now? _

(I’m never going to see my old family, my old friends, ever again.)

(I knew this, but why does it  _ hurt so much now? _ )

* * *

Racing really isn’t her thing, Naminé thinks. Too fast, too noisy, too sudden. Especially with avoiding the Heartless everywhere. 

But wrapping her arms around Xion’s middle, leaning on her as the light-cycle beneath them goes faster and faster...that’s not bad. The opposite, actually. 

“How are you so good on the light-cycle?” Naminé shouts over the rushing air, into Xion’s ear.

“It told me,” is Xion’s nonsensical shout back. Huh? Like a program?

Naminé’s own program chirps from her shoulder, hugging her head with its arms. 

“Tron’s up ahead!” Kairi calls out to them, from her own bike behind them. 

Xion speeds up the light-cycle. “I see him!”

Naminé squints. She does not, everything seems so similar here with the blue neon lights and black...whatever it’s made of. Maybe it’s also because Xion’s own glowing yellow is in the way. 

“Through that hole! Let’s go!” Xion revs up the engine ever more. 

They speed through, narrowly managing to miss several of the big purple Heartless on the way. Skid to a stop, Kair close behind them. 

There’s Tron, near a light cycle of his own. Talking to the boys. They’re all charged up with blue lights like Tron, except for Riku in his coat who is completely normal for some reason. 

“Tron!” Naminé gets off, and hurries over. Linking Program hops her shoulder to continue hopping forward by her side. 

Tron looks over, his face lighting up at the sight of them. Not quite so literally as Naminé’s own glow, but his markings do flash. 

“Naminé, Kairi, Xion! It’s good to see you all again!”

“It’s good to see you too, Tron,” Kairi says. Her eyes go over to the pack of Disnians and human boys. “And you guys too.”

“Hey, we got here first! Whatcha gonna do about that, Kairi?” Sora teases.

Riku chuckles, a much different sound in his new form. One that Naminé has never heard out of him, like this. “Just like old times, huh?”

“Well, if it’s like old times...” Kairi taps her Keyblade against the ground. Grins. “Why don’t we have a race? Winner gets...”

“A paopu fruit?” Riku suggests. 

Kairi shakes her head. “Nope! Loser gets to pay for the winners’ snacks!”

“Wait, are we sur-” Poor Donald gets run over by Sora’s excitement, as the boy dances in place. The darkness on his arm doesn’t move, but whisps do come off of it. 

“Let’s do it!” Sora yells. 

“That sounds like fun,” Xion agrees. “I totally want free ice cream.”

Naminé rubs her Linking Program’s ears. “You want to?” She whispers to it and the program hums in agreement. 

“Okay, you guys better be ready to pay for our cookies!” 

“All righty then.” Goofy puts a hand on his chin. “But who’ll take Tron?”

Everyone looks over at the program. He blinks. “Me?”

“Yeah, who do you want to go with?” Kairi asks. 

“You Users are letting me pick?”

“It’s only fair,” Xion puts in. 

“Okay then...” Tron rubs his chin. “I wiil go with Naminé, Kairi, and Xion. It will be good to catch up.”

Kairi fistpumps. “Great! That makes the numbers more even too!”

“Last one there is a rotten egg!” Sora calls out, before rushing ahead. 

“Hey, you’re not beating us!” Donald rushes over too. 

“Let’s win this!” Riku agrees. And they’re off. 

Naminé looks to the other girls. And Tron. Time for them to go too! No way she’s losing this!

“Let’s go!”

It’s certainly an adventure moving through the canyons of programming. Reminds Naminé of GoD’s space, but much more filled. Filled with Heartless. 

Heartless  _ everywhere,  _ attacking them and ambushing them. 

Enough that even Xion and Kairi, with their Keyblades, can’t quite catch up. Xion’s better with hers than Kairi, and uses more spells, but they both fight well enough against the Heartless. 

Tron uses programs to chew them up and Naminé...

Her spells...they’ve been terrible here, Sleep and Gravity not nearly useful enough against the swarms. More damage dealing, that’s what she needs. 

And that’s what Ruse did all the time, with her ice and shield. 

“Ruse...”

Naminé remembers. Their first meeting, their talks, she  _ remembers.  _

By her side, Linking Program’s ears light up, the symbol on its chest glowing. Her Command Deck hums at her hip. 

_ D-Link connected: Ruse! _

Her spells, they’re different now! Scanning through what’s in her Command Deck, Naminé has access to Blizzard, Dark Surge, and Blitz...though Blitz does appear to be blanked out, for some reason. 

Perfect. Just the damage she needs to help. 

She casts. “Blizzard!”

Freezes the Heartless surrounding them, allowing Xion and Kairi to jointly smash them to bits. With Tron’s help, of course. 

“Great job, Naminé!”

Namine feels the pink light of a blush warming up her cheeks. “Thanks!”

A breather, long enough for Xion and Kairi to amble on over. Looking at her curiously. 

“Those were new,” Kairi remarks.

“What did you just do, Naminé?” Xion asks. “Those spells were different from the ones you’ve been using. And what you used on Xaldin.”

Used on Xaldin? Xion was there for that, right. Funny that Naminé forgot. 

“I don’t really know...let me check the rest of my Command Deck. Won’t take long!”

Naminé’s lips twist thoughtfully. She hasn’t really checked through her Command Deck fully, since she first got it. And maybe she should read Terra’s book again, for more tips. 

The D-Links...she flicks through them. 

Ruse, Kairi, Riku...those are the ones that come up first. And Xion...it’s  _ blurry,  _ for some reason. Something blocking full access. 

Naminé thinks this through, fingers tapping at the Deck. What if...she’s missing a memory? The D-Link with Ruse activated when Naminé recalled memories with her, surely the rest must work the same. 

But what is she missing about Xion, then?

What is so important that she needs to know, to  _ connect?  _

* * *

Ema’s space in existence is a delicate one, she remains fully aware. 

Toxicity is more than happy to inform her that she isn’t supposed to exist, that her existence is totally reliant on the Nightmare’s sense of mercy and Ema’s continued usefulness. 

It’s...fine. She doesn’t care. She doesn’t care about a lot of things. 

Just...find the bones. Find the bones, kill the thief, and rebuild the grave. 

She is a ghost. She shouldn’t be alive. 

Tracking those bones will be a delicate situation to handle, especially considering the other commands she has to follow. Along with her  _ condition.  _

(“See, I’ve slowed your corruption. As long as you obey me...” A snap of claws, blood-red eyes, as Toxicity looks at her smugly. “You won’t become a Darkling. But  _ only  _ if you obey. Otherwise, good-bye rational thought!”)

That corruption, the Darkness that rides in her blood, yellows her eyes and gives her claws...it’ll burn at her should she linger in the Light for too long. Making the tracking process even more difficult, the longer this hunt drags out. 

Ema flexes her claws under her gloves. 

She’ll stay as long as she can in the Realm of Darkness, pop out when she has to. 

But.

First, follow orders. Give Toxicity no reason to suspect. Then. Hunt. 

Ema breathes. She can do this. She can  _ do this.  _

With a slice of her resummoned scythe, she cuts a hole in reality and steps through. 

Looks up and all around her surroundings. 

A castle...ahead of her. Empty chasms below, full of blue crystal and stone. A shattered world, full of Heartless waiting for her to lose her grip. 

This world...she’s never seen it before. Never been here before. 

(Why is that so strange?)

She turns and there she is. 

The fairy herself. The one that Toxicity has sent her for. 

“You’re finally arrived. This...assistance that Toxicity promised me, hm?” Maleficent turns slowly to face her, stately and every inch an evil witch. 

(“You got Fairy Stars, right? From going to Enchanted Dominion?”)

Ema blinks back the strange fuzzy flashes. 

“What can you do?” Long fingernails tap against a black staff. A crow caws from her shoulder. 

Ema taps at her own weapon in return. “I can fight. Use Darkness. Go where you need me to go,” she states flatly. Pauses. “Call reinforcements if required.”

Maleficent doesn’t quite sigh. “Purely a weapon, I see. Very well.”

The fairy raises her voice. “Pete!”

“Here!” There’s a dog-man-thing, rushing up. A Disnian, Ema believes his kind are called. 

He scratches his head, looking at her. “Er...whose this?”

“A new ally.” Maleficent sweeps her magnificent cloak to the side as she moves away. “She will be working with you from now on.”

“Oh right, I can do that!” Pete seems overly happy to get an assignment such as that. 

Is...

Ema doesn’t know what to think. 

Not when the fairy is now gone. Leaving her and Pete alone together. Ema takes his in scent, his Heart, and marks it for later. 

She’ll be able to track him now. 

He shuffles his feet. “So, uh, what we be doing is helping with-”

There’s nothing to talk about. Not to him. He won’t know anything. 

So Ema turns to tending her scythe instead, tunes out his babbling. Pops out the medals that boost her power. 

Five medals from...before. Maybe not even. Ema’s  _ pretty  _ sure that using Darkness, like the way most of these medals feel, was heavily frowned upon in that before. 

Rose had put forth the idea that maybe the medals changed to what Ema felt the most connected to, in the past or future. When Ema had asked for theories, at least. 

If so...she still has no idea how they’re connected or what even those connections mean. 

As she cleans them, strengthens them with her power, Ema reexamines the medals themselves. The people (or monsters) on them are artistically rendered, none looking in any way realistic enough to truly compare to anyone Ema might meet. 

First...

Pink hair with a just as pink scythe is “Assassin of Graceful Thorns.” Warm to touch, warm to think about and rearm in her own scythe. It responds the most easily to her touch, her power. 

A woman with white hair and eyes as yellow as Ema’s own, surrounded by waves of a Dark sea. For spells of water, named “Fallen Hero of Water.”

For Reflect spells, she turns to “Scheming Illusionist,” a boy with blueish hair and a strange spellbook opened wide. 

Something like a boy, with silver hair, dressed in the blue, red, and black of Darkness. Named, ironically enough, the “Nameless Reflection.”

The last...maybe it’s the Light that glows in it making her shiver. A blond haired boy with a crude Keyblade, in black and white. Green and Upright, its label reads, “Hero of Wind.”

(Cold, dark, pain, bleeding... “Lauriam.”)

She shutters her eyes, shaking the Darkness creeping up her limbs away. Don’t try to find the lost memories. That way only leads to...pain. Pain and falling further into the Dark. Her time is limited, must not waste it on the past beyond her reach. 

Put them away, put them back in her scythe where they belong. 

Her shoulders ache, as does her chest. Old scars, slowly splitting open into wounds. 

Ema needs to return to the Realm of Darkness, regain her health before it degrades further. 

“I’m leaving,” she states, turning her back on the Disnian. 

“Wait, what?” He waves his hands. “Why you’re doing that?!”

She looks at Pete. Words threaten to bubble, an apology. But she’s never apologized in her life. “I’ll come when I hear your call.”

Cut the open in the Dark, go through. 

To the Realm of Dreams, to where her Heart always tugs her. Her master, her creator. 

Red eyes turn to look at her, from a plush face. 

(Why does her Heart itch, to see that smaller form? Why does it ache and sing?)

“Did you enjoy your trip?” Toxicity asks. Like they actually care, like it matters. 

Ema remains silent. 

“I see.” They turn, tugging at their cape. “You’ll watch her. Report everything she and her minions do to me.”

Ema bows. “As you command.” There is no other answer she can give, not if she doesn’t want to end up on the floor, screaming as her insides burn. 

(Rose helped her stand again, after that happened for the first time. The punishment.)

Toxicity makes no further response, no further commandment. A dismissal. 

She retreats. 

To her alcove, to where the grave was.

Sits there and mourns. 

(For what else is there for her to do? Outside the hunt?)


End file.
